


A crown, if it hurts us, is not worth wearing

by Ava626



Series: The crown series [2]
Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Birth, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Family Fighting, Hurt/Comfort, Marriage, More scheming (but perhaps a little less than in the previous story), Pregnancy, a.k.a. smut
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-10-11
Updated: 2017-12-25
Packaged: 2018-04-25 23:04:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 48
Words: 90,290
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4980085
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ava626/pseuds/Ava626
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Part II of the Crown series. The previous part left of with Tauriel pregnant with Kili's child and Emma sending away her family members. This part picks up roughly  8 months later and will continue to follow the Durin's and the Elrondions and their somewhat unusual life. With perhaps some additions......</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Birth I

**Author's Note:**

> So I started writing this story in the past tense, hoping it would make my writingstyle a bit more relaxed. I would really appreciate any feedback, on my writing style or on the story itself. I am still trying to get into writing and improve myself, so any help would be useful :)
> 
> Now, let us get started with some smut, that is always a good start ;)

“Happy aniversary, azyungal.”

Thorin slowly woke to the whispered words in his ear and the feeling of Emma’s warm breath on his neck. And when he felt soft kisses right on that very sensitive spot just below his earlobe, he thought the day could not start any better. Untill he felt her hands going through is hair and his toes curled up from the tingling sensation all over his scalp. He swiftly rolled over to face her and pulled her into a tight embrace.

“Am I not the one who is supposed to instigate these sort of things? Breakfast in bed, backrubs, presents, those things?”

Emma put her leg over his, pulling him even tighter to her and softly kissing him and nipping at his lower lip. “You are right. You are supposed to do those things. But you have to leave something for me.”

Thorin groaned deeply as he felt her hands roam over his bare chest. “Woman, if you do not cease this immediately, there is a fairly large chance I shall be ravishing you all though the morning instead of us doing what we are supposed to do on our first wedding aniversary.”

Emma pushed him on his back and straddled him, feeling his hardness pressing between her tighs. “Well, _Oakenshield_ ” she grinned. “Who says this is not exactly what we are supposed to do?”

And when she held his hands over his head and he felt her soft breasts and hard nipples slide up and down over his torso, Thorin believed himself to be in heaven. A year ago, she had very reluctantly became his bride and even more reluctantly gave herself to him. A year ago, he had been too dazed by his own desire to see her hurting. Nine months ago, she had not trusted him, had not confided in him. But here they were, her sitting on top of him, at her own instigation, rubbing her warm wetness again his alarmingly fast stiffening cock. When she started to lick along the edges of the tattoos on his chest, her warm tongue a sharp contradiction against the somewhat chilly temperature of the room, he had to restrain himself against jerking his hands out of her grip, rolling her over and just taking her fast and hard.

But he wanted her to enjoy first, he wanted to hear her moaning out his name, or perhaps even yelling it, if he really did his best. She had gotten much more confortable in their bed, no longer afraid or insecure, and he absolutely loved it. So he carefully took his hands from hers and cupped her face, pulling it up to his and placing ever more demanding kisses on her lips. Then he leaned on his elbows and nudged at her a bit, making clear what he wanted and she gladly followed his lead.

When he was in control again, he started with her delicate ears. Though not pointed, her parentage became clear in them as she loved it when he kissed, licked and nipped at them, and she writhed underneath him, making the most delicious keening noises and letting out small moans. From there, he went onto her neck, kissing along the throbbing artery, all the way down to her collarbone. He followed the line of it, untill he reached the little dimple in the middle and then licked down her sternum as he cupped her breasts and rubbed her nipples between his thumb and forefinger. They were not heavey, and therefore not sagging a bit like other dwarven women, but a perfect handfull that stood firm. And soft. Soft as rose paddles and creamy as fresh milk, he revelled, as he felt the skin beneath his lips.

“Thorin” She whispered, and he smirked at hearing his name, knowing she would repeat it more times this morning. He started sucking at her left nipple, while holding the right between his fingers. He pressed it against his upper teeth with his tongue and then lapped at it to soothe the sting. After a while he repeated it with her right nipple, and then went down to the soft and sensitive flesh of the underside of her breast, where the mound met her ribcage. In any other case he would have tickled the receptive skin with his beard, but this morning he just wanted to bring her to the precipe of pleasure without anything distracting her from her enjoyment. So he sat on his knees en went further along, languidly trailing his tongue in spirals down her belly untill he reached the small hollow in the middle of it, licking circles around it, and dipping his tongue in it. Her hips already started tilting instinctively, to get his attention to the place she wanted it, but he intented to stretch out the moment, enhance her arousal by making her wait. So he placed his lips at her left tigh and sucked at the firm flesh, making little red traces, marking her as his. When he reached her knee, he switched ot her right leg and went upwards, ending at her upper inner tigh, just shy of her glistering folds. He saw her arousal and he could not stop himself from licking at the outer fold, the hairless flesh as soft as a baby’s bottom. After she had returned from the Mirkwood, she had taken up shaving or waxing or whatever women did to get rid of hair they did not want, there, and when he had curiously informed as to this new habit, she had confessed to her conversations with the she elf consort. He could not appreciate much from the Mirkwood, but this, this he appreciated very much.

“Thorin” Another moan, now paired with her hands grasping his hair, pulled him out of his reverie. He ran his index finger between her inner folds, gathering the slick heat between them, and then inserted his finger just up to the first knuckle into her. He was rewarded with a loud moan and he pressed in further, making a beckoning motion when he had pushed in deep enough. As the top of his finger pressed against that sensitive spot inside of her, she threw back her head and let out a keening noise. He smirked, and looked up at her.

“Do you like that, azyungal?” he asked teasingly.

“Please, Thorin.” She moaned.

“Tell me what would please you. What is it you want?”

“Again, Thorin.” She begged, and he did as she asked. “This, you mean?” he said while moving his finger.

“Y-yes.” She whispered as she clutched at the sheets in an attempt to keep herself from flying apart.

“Just this?” He teased again, and this time she just shook her head, unable to speak as he had moved his finger again. “Then tell me what else you want.”

“Please, just kiss me _there_!” She now more urgently moaned.

Unwilling to stop their game just yet, he started kissing all around the little nub she wanted his tongue to lap against while continueing to move his finger on her inside. And only when he felt her becoming almost fluid underneath him and around him, he held her hip down with his left hand and lapped his tongue all the way up from her entrance to her pearl, evoking a deep and satisfied groan. And he did it gain and again, untill her legs clamped his head and her back was arched, her muscles strung tightly as a bow.

“Thorin, Thorin, Thorin, _Thor-in_ ” she moaned as she reached her peak and her hands grasped in his hair, keeping him exactly in the right place. When he felt her muscles clamp around his finger and then release again, he swiftly got onto his knees, spread her legs further and entered her in one swift movement. Emma’s eyes flew open and immediately she started convulding around his hard organ again, the sensation his finger had left her with now intensified by the stronger stimulation his cock provided.

“That’s it, azyungal.” He whispered. “Come for me again. Just let go.” As he said the words that would often send her over the edge, he flicked her clit with his thumb, and again she arched beneath him, her fingers digging into her back.

He slowed down a bit, letting her ride out her orgasm, and prolonging his own endurance. As she arched, he breasts were pushed upwards, and he took one of her nipples in his mouth, sucking hard on it, while holding it in place with his teeth.

As she came back down, she looked at him with clouded eyes, her cheeks rosy from arousal and her forehead sweaty with exertion. But he did not have enough yet, he wanted to lavish in her want for him more, and most of all he wanted to hear her abandone all propriety and scream his name without any regard for the rest of the world. So he sat back on his knees and hooked her knees with his arms, pushing them back and up until they were leaning on his shoulders, so that with every thrust he would hit her spot.

He started pulling out slowly, dragging along the sensitive nerve endings, and them slammed into her hard, making her gasp for air at the sensation. And as she made her pleasure known by dragging back his head by his hair, he did it again and again.

“Please, Thorin, faster!” She panted. “Say my name” he groaned as he followed her request, and she moaned it out as he slammed into her again, time and time again, louder and louder, like some sort of a prayer, untill he got what he wanted and he wrenched out his name from her in a strangled cry and the muscles deep insde of her milked him so thightly he came instantly, spurt after spurt shooting out of him accompanied by loud groans.

He collapsed on top of her, panting heavily, and stayed like that a good while, their heavy breathing synchronized. But after a couple of minuted, she started to move beneath him, and he knew he had gotton too heavy for her, so he rolled to his side, taking her with him and enwrapping her in his arms.

“You always have better ideas as to how to spend our day than me, ghivashel.”

“Mmmm” She sighed satisfied. “But you excel at the execution.”

He grinned. “If you are still so eloquent, I have most surely not done a good job.”

Emma stretched, relaxing her tired muscles. “I beg to differ, and so does the state of our bed. Let’s have a bath so the servants can clean up.”

After an initial reluctance to leave his warm bed, which was soothed by a hefty number of loving kises from his wife, he followed her and he submerged himself in the warm water while holding her.

“Thorin?” She said after a while, and he responded with a small groan, as he was thouroughly enjoying the feeling of utter relaxation. “Do you think it would be strange for me to have another tattoo?”

He frowned a bit, and pursed his lips. “No, I don’t think so. Why? What do you want?”

“I want to get my arm done, like you have, only all of my arm.”

He smiled at the thought. All of the dwarven women he had known had had many tattoos, and he had always found it very exhilerating. “And which design, azyungal?” he uttered almost breathlessly.

“A story. Of what has happened.” She answered, and he thought he heard a bit of shyness, or shame, in her voice, so he softly kissed the side of her neck. “Draw it up sometime, I will get Dwalin here when you are ready.”

They relaxed in the bath a little longer, and then returned to their now clean and fresh bedroom and lay back down on the bed. But the rest did not take long.


	2. Birth II

“Not again” Thorin moaned, half sitting up while closing his eyes in a pained expression. “Would it be too much to ask for just a little peace around here? Is it really too difficult for members of this family to get along?”

Sounds of Tauriel and Dis yelling had penetrated the thick walls and doors of the royal chambers and were now clearly audible to Thorin and Emma, though it was difficult to make out the exact words.

Ever since Kili had brought back Tauriel with him from the Mirkwood, Dis had been unsufferable. She had started with complained about the bride price. In all honesty, it had been rather hefty considering Thorin could not stand the Mirkwood elves and Tauriel had already been pregnant. Enabling Kili to marry Tauriel had costed Thorin the starlight necklace, though it hadn’t gone without a fight. Thranduil had seen the opportunity to get his people’s heirlooms back at last, and had bitten into it like a terrier. For a long time it had seemed no agreement could be reached, which would have meant Kili and Tauriel being unable to marry, as Kili needed Thorin’s permission and Thranduil wanted a bride price that belonged to Thorin. But when tensions rose and Thorin was about to leave without Kili and Tauriel, Emma had intervened. She knew Thorin would forever regret it if Kili would stay in the Mirkwood, as would Thranduil regret not giving his one time favorite the future she had yearned for her whole life. So she managed to lower Thranduil’s demands to just the necklace and got him to offer a large shipment of wood in addition to Tauriel’s hand in marriage for Kili. At least with the compromise both rulers were equally unhappy.

But getting the permission to wed from both sides was only a small hill compared to the mountain the couple faced at home. To say Dis was not pleased with her son marrying an elf, and impregnating her before the actual wedding, was an understatement. Dis was most certainly not a hapy dwarf, and being a dwarf meant she was not afraid to express her unhappyness loudly. She remembered the lack of help they got when Smaug attacked, and the image of Thranduil turning away even though he clearly saw their agony was forever burned into her memory. So she hated elves, and especially Mirkwood elves, with a vengeance unparalleled. Of course, so had Thorin, especially after being imprisoned by the Mirkwood monarch and learning that said monarch had slept with his wife during their short period of separation. But he had seen the help Tauriel had given Kili, he had seen how the elves had helped them during the battle and he knew how important the help from the elves was during the first year after recapturing Erebor. Without the treaty, that had gained him valuable resources and food, their survival would have been doubtful. So his hate was tempered by something he himself would never name as such, but what could be described as gratefulness.

But Dis had never seen or experienced it as such; she never knew how dire the situation of her youngest son was after he had been shot with a dark arrow, and how Tauriel’s help had saved him from certain death. Dis only saw the past, and grievances done to them, so a captain of the royal guard of the Mirkwood marrying her son was a great affront to Dis.

At first she had bickered and argued with Thorin, and when that endeavour had proven to be fruitless she had turned her wrath to the bride herself. She had tried to deny her a white wedding dress for obvious reasons, had refused to speak to her and had tried to convince Kili to not go ahead with the marriage, even resorting to sending several very attractive dwarven women to his chambers at night. Fili had taken great advantage of that gesture, but to Dis’ misfortune Kili had stood squarely besides his betrothed and had not budged.

So the wedding had gone ahead and although it was a relatively small affair for a prince of Erebor, perhaps caused by his choice for bride, it had been nice. Tauriel had almost looked etherial in her silvery white flowy dress, a gift from Thranduil, and the hight difference between her and Kili had not been overly disturbing, caused by Kili’s new footwear, which had suspiciously thick soles.

But when Thorin had naively assumed that would bet he end of the discourse in his family, he had been very, very wrong. Dis had not made any effort to hide her disappointment and disgruntlement but had only doubled her efforts. Tauriel didn’t do enough, Tauriel did too much for a pregnant woman, Tauriel talked too much, Tauriel didn’t talk enough, she ate strange things, she didn’t eat enough, she socialized too much, or not enough; the lithany never ended.

Emma had to agree with her that Tauriel didn’t socialize enough, as she spent most of her time in her chambers and only came out to get some fresh air. But then, who would want to leave their chambers if there was a dragon-like mother in law roaming the halls? But for the rest, Dis was just trying to pick a fight. In the beginning, Tauriel had not minded her and had stayed polite, but now that she was in what was presumably her last trimester, she had lost her patience and had started fighting with her mother in law every time she had started nagging. And appearantely she had done so this morning.

“Thorin, Tauriel is almost to give birth, you can’t let your sister rile her up like this!”

The mightiest of dwarf kings got up with a small groan that betrayed how terribly sorry he felt for himself, and put on breeches and a tunic. Without bothering with shoes or tidying his hair he stumped out of the appartment and into the royal hallway, fuming that his morning was disturbed.

“Would you two stop already?!” He bellowed.

This did bring some quiet, but then Dis started to mumble reasons for their fight and Tauriel, to Thorin’s horror, started to cry. His eyes widened and his mouth became a thin stripe, and he carefully took a step back. He could take roaring enemies, death and gore, he could even take yelling familymembers, but crying women were, as for so many men, a very disturbing sight for him.

Fortunately for him Emma had also gotten up and she now walked over to Tauriel and wrapped her arm around the crying elf. “Come on, I’ll take you to your chambers.” She empathically said, while leading Tauriel down the hall and into the appartment Kili and Tauriel shared since their wedding.

“I can’t take it anymore!” Tauriel sobbed as Emma sat her down on the bed, trying to support the significantly taller, and thus heavier, woman. “She has been pregnant, twice! She should understand that I am just too tired to go walking with her!”

“Walking?!” Emma blurted out with a mixture of both surprise, her eyes wide and her upper lip crooked. “Why in Mahal’s name did she want to go walking with you?!”

But all Tauriel could respond with was a pityfull moan, and Emma softly psuhed her to lie back at the big heep of fluffy, full pillows at her bed.

 

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“Did you have to, namad?” Thorin said wearily to Dis while eying her with scepticism in his look. “They are married, she is pregnant, nothing to do about it anymore. Can’t you just accept it?”

“She bewitched him, Thorin!” Dis hissed, not wanting to be overheard by servants or guards, as such gossip about the royal family could spread like wildfire in Erebor, and Dis was always one to try to maintain a clean image of the Durin’s. “When she supposedly healed him, she must have put some sort of tree-climbers spell on him!”

Thorin sighed, but then looked at her as one might look at a tiresome child and said in a pretend patient tone: “And why would she do that? He is the second prince, highly unlikely to ever inherit the throne.”

“ _He_ is behind it of course! Now that Smaug is gone, he wants Erebor for himself. And he has planted _her_ here as some sort of a—a—a spy or a infiltrator!”

Thorin wanted to tell her she was acting like she were insane or something, but her ravings had planted the tiniest seed of doubt in his heart. His mind knew, of course, that what she as saying was ludacris, but his heart remembered how Thranduil had abandoned them in their time of need, how he had taken advantage of his wife leaving him and going to Rivendel, and how he had managed to get the starlight necklace after all. Losing something he treasured had never sat well with Thorin, and Thranduil had managed to get two things from him: the necklace and the affections of his wife, short as it may have been.

“You are talking nonsense. Go on a holiday or something!” he brusquely said to his sister, unwilling to show his sudden apprehension, and he turned around to go back to his chambers.

But as he did so, he nearly collided with one of the two healers running through the corridor. Understanding what they were running for, and whom, he really started to doubt his own luck, as he had done may times. After everything that had happened, all the misfortune that had befallen him, he finally got back Erebor, got the woman he loved to love him back, and now, on his first marriage anniversary, his plans were being disturbed by Tauriel giving birth. He sent up a little prayer to the maker that Emma would want nor be asked to stay for the birth, and that they would be able to have a nice lunch within the confinement of their bedroom. Or, to be more precise, their bed.

 

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“Please don’t leave!” Tauriel moaned, and she gripped Emma’s hand tighter, untill the blood was drawn from both their knuckes and the joints turned white under the strain. The queen tried not to say or do anything that would betray her intense discomfort, but she ended up having to wrestle her hand from Tauriel’s grip, as she seriously feared her bones being broken. The elf looked to kind and sweet, but underneath that was a strength Emma had not suspected. “I don’t want to be alone.” came another pityful moan.

Emma tried to think of someone else that could stay with Tauriel, but came up empty handed. The she-elf just didn’t have any female friends here that she was close enough with to ask them to stay with her during her delivery. It was odd really, how the kind hearted Tauriel had become so closed off after coming to Erebor. Emma had often hear her laugh with Kili, and the two of them spent all his free time together, sometimes accompanied by Fili, and at sporadic occasions by Emma, but she had never seen her socializing by herself with someone else. Naturally she was always kind and forthcoming to visitors and guests, making small talk and such, but again, never at her own initiative. And for the Ereborian noble dwarves, they had mostly ignored her. Not in a rude manner like Dis did, they feared Kili’s wrath and influence too much for that, but they just weren’t interested.

While sitting on her bed and absentmindedly rubbing Tauriel’s back, Emma came to the sad conclusion that the elf must have been very, very lonely in the past months and she really couldn’t leave her now, no matter how enticing the thought of having lunch in bed with Thorin was. So she got up and wettened a cloth to cool down Tauriel red and sweaty head, running it over her face and neck and then wettening it again to repeat the procedure.

As the hours passed, contractions started coming closer together and becoming more and more painful, to a point Tauriel seemed to be in pain continueusly. “Please, I need Kili!” She begged Emma. “Why can’t he be here with me?”

Emma looked at the bedroomdoor that led to the antechamber, and then back to the elf writhing on the bed. She knew husbands weren’t allowed in the birthing chamber. Or rather, it wasn’t a matter of being allowed or not, that would easily be solved for Durin’s, it was Tradition, with a capital T. And dwarves didn’t mess with Tradition. But another loud moan from Tauriel made her get up.

 

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“’Not done’?! Who gives a fuck about ‘not done’?!” Kili paced through the antechamber, observed by Thorin, Fili, Balin, Dwalin and Dis, and he was currently working out his frustrations on his uncle, though it had been Balin to point out that men weren’t present for the birth of their children.

“Men aren’t present, and that’s that.” Dwalin’s deep voice rang through the antechamber, getting Kili’s attention. “Did you think I was there when Dina gave birth to our little badger? Of course not! Such things are better left to women, aren’t they, Dis?”

But before his mother could speak, Kili already cut in: “Don’t you even _think_ of saying anything! Because of your constant nagging she got unwell!”

Normally Thorin and Dwalin would have told him off for speaking to his mother like that, but they knew he was right and now was certainly not the time to re-educate their nephew about respect. So they remained quiet, and Kili’s heavy boots thudding on the stone floor were the only sounds, though sometimes Tauriel’s moans were audible through the door.

Fili had made himself a most comfortable seat, stacking thick, fluffy pillows against the arm of the sofa to create a craddle like place where he could get some rest while still being polite enough to attend the birth of his brother’s first child. It was only the expectation of his family that had brought him here, if he had gotten the smallest hint he would not have to attend, he would have stayed as far away as possible. After the battle, hehad heard enough moans of agony, pain and grief to last him a lifetime and fill his dreams untill now. That the sweet Tauriel was now going through the same pain and making the same noises was an attack on his nerves, so he crawled into his pillows as deeply as possible and tried to shut out the sounds coming from the bedroom. But when Kili’s pacing got frantic and he heard his younger brother biting his nails, he got up from the sofa, grabbed his brother and pressed their foreheads together in an attempt to calm him down.

>”Everything is going to be fine, little brother. It is just difficult now, as it is for every woman, but it will be just fine. You just have to calm down.”<

Kili tried to get out of his brother’s tight grip, too high strung to be calm enough to stand still. But as his brother continued his calming words, he was able to relax a little. Fili felt his brother ceasing his struggle against him, and felt his tensed muscles relaxing. So he lead him to his place on the sofa and sat him down. He himself squishing in between Thorin and Dwalin, evoking irritated glances from the both of them as he wiggled between them to get comfortable. But in the end, everyone was sitting, and the waiting continued.

As dinnertime approached, the bedroomdoor opened, and all looked up expectantly, only to see a grave looking Emma coming out. Kili immediately jumped up, deducing from Emma’s expression that things were not going well. But before he could speak, she already put up her hands.

“It is going well, Kili, stay calm.”

“What then?” Thorin’s low voice cut off anyon who might have wanted to ask something, and his wife looked at him a bit apologetically.

“She is not really used to husbands not being present, and, eeehm” Emma glanced at Balin and Dwalin, whom were looking as dour as ever. “I thought it would perhaps be better if…”

She did not finish her sentence, but as it died down, everyone knew what she meant to ask. Balin already opened mouth, no doubt to say something about Tradition, but Thorin put up his hand, as a clear sign that his input was not needed nor appreciaed at the moment, and then jerked his head at Kili as a sign he could go into the bedroom. No one had ever seen Kili move so fast.

 

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As the sun had started to set, a massive number of candles had been lit to enable the healers to see well enough in the otherwise dark bedroom. It also caused Kili to see exactly how bad his wife was feeling. So he carefully sat down next to the panting elf and took her hand, which clenched immediately around his.

“What can I do, amralime? Tell me what would make you feel better.” He whispered to her, but she was being taken over by another contraction and could only shake her head at him.

After several more hours, the pain of the contractions was replaced by another feeling, even more intense than the pain she had already felt. But it was too embarrasing to even think about, especially with Kili present, and Tauriel started to regret she had asked Emma to bring him here. “I have to—to go..” She whispered to the healer, whom immediately came over to her.

“You feel like you have to releave yourself?” he asked while feeling her belly, not noticing her shame. And while Tauriel nodded with a face as fiery as her hair, he felt between her legs, an action that made Kili frown and tense up in some form of unconscious jealousy. A second healer came to stand next to him, and after a few seconds they both looked at her with a big smile.

“You are ready.” The first one announced. “Your highness, could you sit at her right? And cool he down with a cloth.” The second asked Emma. “My prince, just sit where you are now and support the princess.”

Kili seemed to take his assignment very literal, as he tried to put his arm around his wife and prop her up. Seeing Tauriel suffer under his well-intented actions, Emma intervened. “Perhaps more emotional support, and less, eeeh, physical.” She tentatively said.

“Oh. Right. Of course.” But Kili could say no more, as another contraction came and the healers pushed Tauriel’s legs into a bended position towards her. “Alright, push now, princess. Push.”

Tauriel did as they said, giving more and more with every contraction while Kili whispered in her ear and Emma wiped her head. And then came the moment that the head was about to be born, the healers coaching her so she would not push too much nor too little, and with a final hard push the head came out, easily followed by the rest of the little body. “A girl!” The chief healer exclaimed with barely hidden reverance. Much more boys were born than girls, especially if it was the first child of a couple, so this birth was a rare one.

Despite the small miracle, Emma had to admit she felt a little queezy, seeing a slime and blood covered curled up baby come out of a place such things normally didn’t come out. But when the umbellical cord had been cut and the little things was cleaned up, crying softly, she felt a sting of care in her heart, especially when Kili and Tauriel both held on the the tiny child, murmering softly to it.

“My prince, why don’t you introduce your daughter to the royal family?” The second healer suggested in a soft tone.

Kili was a bit dsoriented, being pulled out of his reverance for his newborn, but he got up and obediently did as he was told, holding the baby as if she was a rare vase from the first age and walking as if the floor was an extremely unstable scaffold. When reaching the door he faced what he would later call the biggest dilemma in his life. The question of calling his uncle or not when they lost the horses on the quest or choosing between helping Tauriel or escaping when they were under attack from orcs on the river, it all faded in the light of the choice he had to make: letting go of the daughter with one hand to open the door or try using his elbow to open the door and risking disturbing the baby. Fortunately for him one of the healers saw his predicament and opened the door for him so he could proudly step into the antechamber with the newborn.

 

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“We’ll just fix you up and clear up the mess, and then your husband and the visitors may come in.” The first healer, whom Emma had dubbed One, his colleague being Two, said.

“Fix me up?” Tauriel murmured, while Emma frowned a bit.

“Just a few stitches.” Two mumbled while handing One some tools.

When it dawned on her, Emma’s frown deepened while her eyes went wide, and Tauriel grabbed her hand in search of some comfort or pain, she did not know. But a quarter hour later, it was all done and Tauriel was lying between fresh sheets, impatiently waiting for her child. For the new mother it felt an eternity, but what was in reality 5 minutes later, Kili came back, Followed by Thorin, Fili, Dis, Balin and Dwalin.

After Kili put their little girl in her arms, the king was the first to congratiolate Tauriel by stiffly kissing her on the cheek, sitting down in one of the chairs next to the bed rather swiftly, still feeling a bit uneasy around the Mirkwood elf but not wanting to make it obvious. The others, except Dis, followed, Fili sitting down on the edge of her bed next to her legs so Kili could sit next to her while she held the baby. When all had settled down, everyone looked at Thorin expectantly, while Tauriel looked at bit confused. She did not exactly like being the center of attention, having spent most of her adult life spent in the background as Thranduil’s guard, but it was beyond her why everyone stared at the king while she was the one that had just put the most amazing girl ever on the world.

“Well, Uncle, tell us!” Kili impatiently said, a little tremor in his voice betraying how nervous he was.

Tauriel’s confusion only grew when Thorin got up from his chair and came closer to her to look at her daughter, who was lying cozily against her chest, eyes shut tight. He kept looking, untill Tauriel couldn’t stand it anymore:

“What is ging on here? Why do you keep staring at my child?!” She hissed, keeping her voice down as to not to wake the baby.

“Uncle is deciding on the name of course.” Kili gently explained.

“He…What?! Our child will not be named untill the next full moon!” Astonishment and a bit of apprehension seeped through Tauriel’s normally calm and soothing voice, and for those who observed closely it would be clear that she was tensing up.

Deep in thought, Thorin had completely missed the exchange between Kili and Tauriel, and now ponderously said: “Perhaps Seli. Or Kira. I think I need more time.”

Dis sighed deeply and a bit theatrical. “As long as you do not need as much time as you did with Fili. The poor lad didn’t have a name untill five days after his birth!”

Thorin stood straight again, trying to look as regal and dignified as possible while others in the room were snickering at the memory of the debacle of Fili’s naming. “Choosing a name is a very grand responsability. One must be absolutely sure or a child is condemned to live with the wrong name for the rest of its life.”

“No.” Came a sudden comment, and all turned their heads to Tauriel, th grinns dying down. “No Thorin, you won’t name my child. I have carried her for nine months and I have given birth to her. Elvish mothers always name their child, and so will I!”

A silence fell, broken by Balin, Dwalin and Fili quickly shuffeling out of the room, keeping their heads down so they would not invite any comments on their hasty retreat. When the door was closed behind them, Thorin sat back down and looked at Tauriel intendly.

“So we have ran into a cultural difference here.” He started calmly. “But dwarves are always named by the eldest male in the family and I quite enjoy that honour. However, i understand that where one’s child is involved, integration into a new culture may not have the highest priority, nor would my enjoyment be. So I suggest you think of a few accaptable names and we’ll decide together. But do keep in mind that the name must contain either parts of Kili’s name or parts of Dis’ name.”

And after saying that he got up and left the room with a small nod to Tauriel, leaving everyone gobsmacked at his reasonableness.

 

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A single candle was lit on the nightstand, making every movement seem like an eerie exaggeration. When Jalila helped her out of her dress, telling her in a hushed voice what to do so Thorin wouldn't wake up, it was like she was watching the shadowplays her brother used to do for her when she was younger. She simultaneously loved it and feared it, as it always gave her bad dreams.

Once in her nightgown, she wished Jalila a good night night and laid down in bed next to Thorin. She had postponed this moment as long as possible, even excusing it to herself saying she had to stay with Tauriel a little longer, help her feed and change the baby. And then on her way back to their own chambers, she had taken a detour, aimlessly wandering the dark, empty halls. But at some point she had had to go to bed, as fatigue made it nearly impossible to keep her eyes open.      

And now that she was lying in bed, her eyes ironically seemed to be most unwilling to close, so she found herself staring at the canope, mulling over her thoughts.

Thorin turning to her jolted her out of them, and she was even more startled when she looked at him and found him staring at her. Emma’s wide open eyes and slightly opened mouth brought a small smile to his face, and he put his arm around her and nuzzled into her neck.

“She is an adorable baby, don’t you think?” He whispered, pulling his wife a little closer.

“She really is.” Came the polite reply, but Thorin heard the tension in Emma’s voice and it was very familiar to him, as he felt it too.

“Do you think we’ll soon….” He tentatively started, but he could not finish his sentence. Emma and him were not the quintecential ‘arranged marriage’ couple; there was real love between them, and openness. But this subject was quite difficult to breach, and he felt he was stepping over some kind of invisible border and was now with one foot into territory he was not supposed to be.

Emma must have felt the same, as she blew out the candle and turned her back to him. He wanted to reach out to her, say something that would end this aloofness between them. But he had never been good with words, and he could not think of any action that could help. So for the biggest part of the night, both Thorin and Emma lay awake.


	3. Birth III

“Lind.” It was said plainly, but the small word, or name, was spoken with so much determination that contradiction seemed futile.

Thorin had wanted to leave his chambers so desperately that coming to Kili and Tauriel before breakfast had seemed like a good idea. Now however, he wished he had some food in his stomach before making this decision.

“Lind? And what does it mean?” He asked in a low voice, not really liking the name, but not completely against it either. The name wasn’t exactly dwarven, but also not very elvish, as far as he could determine. He almost laughed at himself, going so soft at old age that he was actually going to allow a member of the line of Durin having a semi-elvish name.

But before he could make a fool of himself, Tauriel’s voice pulled him from his thoughts. “A song, carried by the wind or the river.”

“A…..right. I see.” The king sighed, thinking that a song carried somewhere was not exactly the epitome of dwarven notions of suitable, and then looked at his nephew, whom had been very quiet this morning. “And how do you feel about this name, Kili?”

The prince finally looked up at him, and what he saw on his face was enough to give them any name they wanted. It was like seeing the little boy that had shyly asked him if he could come with him to some customer again, his face a combination of hope, trepidation and the expectation that his request would be denied. Truthfully, Kili had every right to expect a denial, as he had refused almost all of his requests back then, too busy with making money and making plans of regaining Erebor to take a little, energetic boy with him. But as he had thought before, he was going soft.

“I—I would be gratefull, my king.” Kili answered in an unsteady voice.

“Uncle.” Thorin corrected him gently. “And now granduncle to Lind.”

As Kili and Tauriel smiled, Thorin didn’t feel the joy he had expected, but rather a dull pain spreading through his chest. He knew he needed to talk to Emma, but he feared what she might say, what he himself might say, but most of all he feared them hurting eachother.

“Enjoy your new family, nephew. You have my sincere best wishes, and please let me know if there is anything you need.” He said brusquely to hide his emotions, and he swiftly left the room.

 

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“They have named her Lind.”

After leaving Kili’s chambers, Thorin had answered the call of his stomach and had gone straight to the dining hall, where he had found Emma already having breakfast after her morning run. It had been uncomfortable, sitting next to eachother not knowing what to say. Silence had only been a part of the beginning of their marriage, and he had thought they were past that. But last night seemed to have changed everything.

“That’s a pretty name.” Emma replied with a fainth smile, then taking another sip of her tea.

“We need to talk, azyungal.”

His wife looked down at her hands, holding them in her lap. “If you wish.”

“Come, I’ll have my breakfast brought to our room.”

 

Normally Emma would jump at the opportunity to have breakfast with the two of them, but now she hesitantly followed her husband. She knew what he wanted to speak about, and she did not want to hear the words she thought he was going to say. Although he had assured her before that he did not care if she could give him children or not, she feared he would send her away, putting Erebor’s interest over hers and his.

In their bedroom, he pulled out a chair at the little breakfasttable, gesturing for her to take a seat. She gingerly did, wondering what was about to come. He had never pulled out a chair for her, perhaps because servants had always done that, but still. And then suddenly she felt his hands on her shoulders, softly massaging her.

“You are tensed, kurdu.” He remarked, kneeding her muscles a little stronger. But his remark had only made her more nervous, and thus tensed. As he kept on working her shoulders, tears started to escape her eyes. Tears of sadness, tears of fear and tears of loneliness she had felt, carrying her worries by herself. But he kept going and going, wordlessly trying to relax her, unaware of her silent tears untill she started sobbing.

He had thought she would like a little shoulderrub, relaxing her a bit after her long day yesterday. But to his shock, she suddenly started to cry. For what felt like an hour, he did not know what to do. He didn’t know his wife like this. She rarely cried, and if she did, she would try to hide it under some angry sneer. He had only seen it once, after their disastrous wedding night. And then only because the pressure that had been put on her, forced into a marriage, Elrond announcing he was her father, her first time, had been so massive and she had had no means to let it out any other way as she was to stay in their room with him.

As it had yielded good result then, he now also sat down next to her. And as then, she also tried to turn away from him now, but he cupped her face and looked at her.

“I have told you before, and I will tell you again: it will not change my love for you.”

“I have failed.”

Emma had to take a couple of deep breaths to calm herself down, pushing both her relief over her husband’s reaction as her own pain on the subject away.

Thorin frowned, but didn’t take her eyes off her. “You have not. I we are not to have children, it could be either one of our faults..”

“But you already have…” Emma tried to cut in, but Thorin continued. “And it is not said we are unable to have children. As your father is, well, an elf, it may take a little longer.”

Emma looked down, and nodded. Not because she agreed, but at his authorative tone. She did not believe his words. He already had Ferin, meaning it could not be him at fault. And dwarven women, unlike most other races thought, conceived quickly. One, perhaps two months and they were pregnant if they wanted to and did not take precautions. The second child mostly took longer, five years or so, a third usually didn’t follow. Fast but few, the dwarves themselves said, but not for her. The past eight months she had despaired more and more, untill she gave up.

“I am going to get healers to check you out, an elven one too, and we’ll know more.” Thorin said, and she jerked her head up to him, her eyes big and pleading. He did not want any more healers, as she feared what news they would give her, and she did not want contact with anyone from Rivendel.

“Please….”

“Last night has shown me that this is standing between us, and I’ll not have it azyungal.

 

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Her soft knock was answered with the door being opened by a pale looking Kili, yawning heavily when he gestured for her to come in.

“I just wanted to see how you are doing.” Emma whispered as an explanation for her visit. Kili nodded and led her to the bedroom where she found Tauriel sleeping, curled up around little Lind, who was looking at the brightly colored canope above the bed.

“Not a good night?” Emma whispered, and Kili shrugged. “I suppose babies are just like this. At least at first.”

“You could get nannies, you know. Take care of her yourself in the day and have them take care of her at night.”

Carefull not to make any noise Kili walked over to the bed and picked his daughter up, cradling her to his chest. “I don’t think I would trust anyone to take care of her, not when she is still so little.”

Wordlessly Emma held out her arms and Kili carefully handed over his daughter. Together they sat down on the sofa in the corner of the room and Emma started cooing at the child, whispering nonsense words while softly tracing her features with her finger. Kili watched them for a while, wondering why Emma didnt have children yet, as she clearly seemed to adore his daughter.

“Emma, can I ask you something personal?” He gingerly asked after a while.

“Sure” she mumbled without taking her gaze off Lind.

“When you were younger, were you ever, you know?” He started.

“No, I don’t know” She mumbled again, too concentrated on entertaining Lind by making silly faces to really pay attention to Kili.

“I mean, did other children ever tease you?”

Now she looked at Kili, and for a moment he feared he had gone too far, but she shook her head with a melancholical smile. “I didn’t really play with other children besides Melo. And back then, no one knew I’m half—what I am.”

“Do you think she will be---?” Kili started, but he clearly had difficulties broaching the subject as his words came out a bit strangled.

“No. She is a princess of the line of Durin, and I think she is special to Thranduil as well. Who would dare? And I think with the two of you as parents, she’ll have a nice personality as well. Everyone will love her Kili, don’t worry.”

“I never thought of it before, to excited to see her come into this world. But now she’s here, I fear everything that might hurt her.” He said while fidgeting with some loose hem of his tunic.

Emma softly stroked the tuft of brown hair on Lind’s head, too short to do anything with it yet but no less pretty.

“We all get hurt at some point in our life, but we survive it. And don’t forget: she has a very large family of males that will all help you protect her.”

“But how will the rest of Erebor see her? I mean, she will not be deemed good enough to take the throne, if such a thing were possible for girls, and everyone here seems to still hate the Mirkwood elves.”

“Just relax, Kili. She’ll make everyone love her, and perhaps even change common opinion about the Mirkwood elves. And in a while, I’ll take Tauriel with me more often so at least the queen’s councel knows there is nothing to fear from the Mirkwood.” Emma smiled and turned her attention back to Lind, feeling a little sad at the things Kili had said.

But she couldn’t dwell on it long, as Lind started to squirm a bit, making little whining noises. When Kili started to show signs of worry, Emma huffed a bit in amusement and took the child to the bed where she lied down next to Tauriel. As the noises coming from the baby became louder, Tauriel woke and smiled at Emma in surprise and embarassment.

“I am sorry I did not wake.” She said while taking the baby.

“I would have felt guilty if you did, you need your sleep.” Emma said with a kind smile, but it faltered when Tauriel bared her chest and put the baby to her nipple to feed her. She did not where to look or what to say with Tauriel’s swollen breasts on display so near to her, but neither Tauriel nor Kili seemed to notice her discomfort untill she announced her departure. Even though it was not an unusual sight within a mother’s chambers, Emma felt like an intruder in a very intimate scene. Kili frowned but Tauriel looked at her inquisitive.

“Does it make you feel uncomfortable, Emma? Should I leave?”

“No! No of course not!” That was clearly about Tauriel staying right where she was and not about the ‘uncomfortable’ part. “I have a lot to do today, I just wanted to come by and see how she was doing. And you of course. Are you well?” Emma rambled a bit, but it did not seem to matter as Tauriel just smiled at her and nodded.

“I’ll come by again soon. And please let me know if there is anything you need.”

 

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In truth, Emma had absolutely, completely nothing to do for the rest of the day, or the rest of the week for that matter, except for yet another boring queen’s counsel. She really started to het annoyed with the meetings, as they were a sad excuse for the noble women to come together, gossip and ask favors of her. Dwalin’s wife was the exception though. Like her husband, she prefered action over words.

Emma did not feel like training today, she did not want to see Thorin out of embarrassment and as Melo was handling all state affairs in the Grey Hills with such competence Emma only sometimes needed to sign some papers, that also did not give her anything to do. Wandering the corridors aimlessly, as she had done the night before, Emma found herself in front of the doors to Fili’s chambers, and in an impulse she knocked on them. To her surprise they were opened almost immediately, though not by Fili but by his valet.

“The prince will be but a moment, your highness.” He said with a bow, and he moved aside so Emma could pass him.

Stepping into the aparment, Emma looked around. The chambers were uncharacteristically tidy for a bachelor, Emma knew her rooms would not look as clean as these if she didn’t have handmaidens and servants. However, Fili’s chambers also show very little personality. Now that Kili’s possesions were all gone, the only things showing someone actually living here were a violin on a little table in the corner and some daggers above the fireplace. It looks rather lonely.

She sat down on one of the sofa’s in the sitting room and Fili joins her after he has ordered some tea for them. “What brings you here, sister?” He asks with a slightly tilted head. Since events in the Mirkwood, Fili had taken up the habit of calling her sister. She didn’t know if it is because he felt like he had lost Kili to Tauriel and now needed a new sibling, if he thought she needed it because of what happened with her family or if he actually meant it, but she liked it.

Emma stretched out on the sofa, feeling comfortable enough in Fili’s presence to abandone the strict courtly manner they were to uphold in public. “I’ve just come back from Kili and Tauriel. Have you heard the name yet?”

“Yes.” Fili mused with a small smile. “Lind. It’s not bad really. I was half expecting something like a Mirkwood Leglass name. Kiliel or something.”

Emma snorts very unladylike at the idea of Thorin accepting such a name, which sends Fili into a snicker of his own. “Imagine the presenting of the babe. Kili holding the child up and telling everyone she’s called Kiliel and the whole crowd bursts into laughter.”

Fili bit the corner of his lower lip and fidgetted with his moustache braid a bit. “I don’t think there is going to be a presenting, Emma. I mean, it’s all good and well that uncle has accepted Tauriel, but I don’t think Lind will be presented as part of the royal line.”

Emma nodded thoughtfully. “Do Kili and Tauriel know?”

“Uncle spoke to them about it, I think. They understand.”

Emma frowned. “Why has no one told me?”

Fili started to fidget with his moustache braid again, a nervous habit he seemed to have. “Perhaps they thought you would be, eeeh, offended, or something.”

Emma sighed, feeling rather uncomfortable with the subject, so she abruptly changed it after a few moment. “And you? How are things going with Sigrid? I have not heard you speak about her since her ball.”

“I, eeeeh, I’ve visited her a couple of times.” He admitted.

“And??”

“We’ll see.” He answered rather shortly, ending the topic with his brusque tone.

They spoke about lighter subjects after that, especially about the noble ladies Emma was to see later that afternoon, and how they tried to push their daughters, sisters or other female relatives and friends on Fili.


	4. One I

“Uncle, could we speak?”

A servant had brought Fili into the sitting room where Thorin and Emma had been sitting quietly, him working on some papers while she was reading a book, her legs curled under her on the sofa.The hesitant tone of his nephew made Thorin frown; normally Fili was much more confident or at least able to feign confidence. He quickly put his papers aside and gestured hm to come in, while Emma, having understood from Fili’s tone that is was a private matter, greeted him with a kiss on his cheek and then left the room, closing the doors behind him.

“Sit, my sister-son, and tell what it is I can help you with.”

Fili slumped down on the seat previsously taken by Emma and stared in the hearth for a moment.

“Come, out with it. You like like you did when you were 15 and had broken something in the smithy.”

His nephew blew out a small huff of air in amusement, but then remembered why he came to visit Thorin. His intimidating uncle Thorin, that always seemed to do everything right and seemed to be too perfect to be a role model. But unfortunately, it was the only male rolemodel he had, so hesitantly he started.

“You see, uncle, I –eeeeh—wanted to ask you something.” He said while fidgeting with the hem of his tunic.

“Fili, you’re 85 years old and heir to the throne of Erebor. If you want to ask something, just ask. It can’t be more embarassing than the time you asked what those noises coming from your parents bedroom were!”

Another huff of air was blown into the room and Fili silently cursed his uncle for chosing tonight of all nights for remembering things from his childhood. Normally Thorin couldn’t even remember his birthday under treat of his braids being cut, but now of all times his long term memory seemed to be in an excellent state.

“How do you if you’ve met your one?” He blurted out, forcing himself to ask despite his endless doubt of whether or not to speak to his uncle about this subject.

Thorin rubbed his beard and sat back, not having expected this question. “Fili, perhaps your mother….”

Fili shook his head and interrupted his uncle, knowing what he was going to say. “Amad will speak of adad and she will cry, and I don’t want her to.”

Thorin nodded, appreciating his nephews candor. His heir was often so difficult to read, keeping his emotion well hidden beneath a layer of politeness and evenness. So if he came to him, Thorin knew it was about something that was really bugging him.

“Your One.” He sighed. “A tricky subject. You wish to speak of –eeeh—physical—eeeh—things?”

“No!” Fili almost yelled, turning bright red. Thorin had once tried to educate Kili and him on that subject, and that toe curling experience had been painfull for all three of them, though it was difficult to say whom had suffered to most from it. “I mean, that is not what I wanted to ask, uncle. I wanted to ask—well—how did you know Emma is your One?”

Thinking back on that moment Thorin actually smiled, untill he saw the inquisitive look on his nephews face and he straightened his own expression. “When everything is better with that one person, then you know.”

“What do you mean ‘everything is better’?”

Thorin swallowed a little thickly. He wasn’t used to sharing his feelings, even with Emma he did not speak about them, though she often knew what he felt and why. And now his nephew asked him to speak of what he regarded his most intimate feelings. Feelings of loss and physical hurt were common to him; he and most of the people around him had known them well enough. But the more tender feelings such as love made him feel vulnerable and naked in a way he did not want to feel. He frowned, and struggled to find a way to explain it. The lad had no father to ask, and he had practically raised him. This was part of that upbringing, and it was his responsability to finish the job.

“She—“ he started, but speaking of Emma made it all too personal for him. “Waking up on a dark, cold morning and sticking your toes out from under the blanket becomes great because you know you will see them again. Sharing your only meal of the day becomes a pleasure because you share it with them.” He saw his nephew frown and remembered those situations weren’t relevant anymore now that they had taken back Erebor, so he switched his examples. “A counselmeeting where your One is present becomes the highlight of your day. Meeting with other rulers becomes a holiday if you know they are there. Traveling becomes both fantastic and excruciating, as you know you will see them, but it takes too long.”

The softness in his tone had surprised Fili, because he had never known his uncle to be a man that had such depths.. Yet he still wasn’t sure.

“But how does it differ then from seeing someone else. Like, I also look forward to seeing Kili and amad when I haven’t seen them for a long time.”

“Yes, but do they set your heart on fire? Do they make you feel weightless? And do they—eeeh—elicit other---eeeh—feelings?”

Fili snickered, and murmered a “I should hope not” under his breath, but then he looked at his uncle seriously again. “And can you be happy without your One?”

“You ask many difficult questions tonight, sister-son. And the answer to this one would depend on whom you ask. I think you can, but others will tell you it is a shallow and hollow happiness that will slowly dim the light inside your heart.” Thorin paused for a moment, looking at the fire and thinking back on his time with Jessa. He had definitely had feelings for her, perhaps they could even be called love, but nothing as profound as what he felt for Emma. “It is different for us royals. If my father had still been alive when we took back Erebor, a political marriage would have been arranged for me and I probably wouldn’t have been able to marry Emma.” Saying it outloud actually pierced his heart, painfull as it was thinking of someone else to share these chambers with, to hold in his arms at night. He looked up at Fili.

“Does it hurt when you think of your One and then think of marrying someone else?”

Fili blushed a little. “Yes.” He softly admitted.

“And have you felt like that with any of the other women you have had?”

Fili’s head jerked up at him, and Thorin chuckled. “Don’t take me for an old fool, sister-son. I know most of what goes on here, including the rooms you visit and the people that visit your rooms.”

“No, I haven’t.” Fili answered to the earlier question, not wanting to think about his uncle knowing of what he did at night.

“Then perhaps you already know the answer to your question, sister-son, and the only question that remains is why you are so unsure about it. Is it because of who she is, perhaps?”

Fili shortly nodded, feeling a bit betrayed that his uncle had known all along but had let him struggle on with this horrid conversation.

Thorin tilted his head and his expression softened. “Being the heir to the throne of Erebor has many advantages, as I have known well when I was younger. But it also comes with obligations, which are a lot less nice to bear.” He sighed, wishing he could spare his nephew this. “I urge you to wait untill your aunt has a boy, Fili. It woud not be beneficial for Erebor if I have no legitimate children and yours and Kili’s children are not eligable for taking the throne.”

Fili’s jaw jutted forward. He had expected this, but deep inside he had hoped for another response. “Emma is only half dwarf and she has the throne in the Grey Hills.”

Thorin ran his hand through his hair, knowing how his nephew felt. “That is true. But the Grey Hills have always been somewhat different, an island within our race. They don’t do things the way other clans do them, and they do not conform to the traditions other clans do heed. And besides, as you well know Emma and her brother have the power there, and they have brought wealth back to the Grey Hills; their people love them so much for it they wouldn’t care if she was a half-orc.”

Fili nodded thoughtfully, and then looked up at his uncle again. “Is my share of the treasure still mine?”

Thorin knew where this was going, he had known it since the beginning of the conversation. Once a dwarf found his One, he was not deterred by anything; he himself was a good example of that. “It is always yours, sister-son. But I hoped you would give me the honor of paying your bride price, wedding and four month ball.”

A surge of happiness warmed Fili’s heart, hearing his uncle say that and the acceptance of his choice it entailed, but it wasn’t enough. “She had her coming into society ball ten months ago, uncle. She can only keep suitors at bay for so long before her father cannot deny them anymore because she doesn’t want to. Is there no sign at all of Emma—you know--?”

Now it was Thorin’s turn to grit his teeth. For some reason Mahal had thought it fitting to confront him with the fact that his wife still wasn’t pregant the whole time these couple of weeks, and it did not make him a happy dwarf. But he understood his nephews feelings and his sense of urgency. The race of men was always in a hurry, even when giving away their daughters.

“Perhaps a courting fee?” he suggested, having vaguely heard of the practice of paying for the honor of courting a woman exclusively without making binding promisses.

“She’s the first daughter of a king, uncle. Not the third one of a duke.”

Thorin got up and walked to the hearth poking the wood to make the fire burn fiercer, and to calm his thoughts as they swirled through his brain. “I will not stop you from doing what you want, Fili. You are an adult in every way, and I no longer tell you what to do. But I do ask you. I ask you to behave as the heir you are. You reap the benefits, now carry the disadvantages.”


	5. One II

It was a long, seemingly endless line of dwarves, most of them grouped together within their families, but some alone or in twosomes. But all of them, seemingly without exception, donned their finest clothing and most expensive jewelry. Velvets, silks and satins in all colors were to be seen, though Durin blue seemed to be favourite among the newcomers, and hair was braided so elaborately that the wearers would have to have sat still for at least half a day.

Emma regarded them all with curious but well hidden interest. The dwarves in front of her had come from all corners of Arda, though predominantly from the Blue Mountains, and several told Thorin of their long and difficult trek. The hunger and cold they had suffered, the great distances they had covered, but how it was all worth it because of their great wish to live in Erebor under his rule, as they had before the dragon.Emma could only barely supress a scoff. Their clothes, shoes and hair spoke of an entirely different story. Not of lang journeys filled with hardship, but of a desire to become the new royalty here, of a desire to become even more wealthy and a _deep_ desire to introduce their daughters to the king and the princes.

It did not matter to them that the king and one prince were already married; they all heard the rumours aboutthe barrenness of Thorin’s and Emma’s marriage, and how Kili had wed an elf. It was an opportunity to them.

The look on Thorin’s face and the stiffness of his posture told Emma he held a desinterest towards the young women being presented to him, but he also did not show interest towards her. Ever since he had spoken to Fili a couple of weeks ago he had changed. Became colder; more distant.

And now this. Now the people clearly showed how little faith they had in Emma and in the marriage of their king. Like vultures, she thought, like vultures circling above a dying animal, waiting for it to draw its last breath so they could have their fill.

Muffling a sigh she turned back to the people in front of her, now a corpulent dwarf with a nose that spoke of his overconsumption of red wine and a finely embroided jacket that matched the color. He introduced his evenly rotund wife and a son of maybe thirty that looked cockier than Fili did when he succeeded to impress a girl. The dwarf nearly pushed his daughter into Thorin’s lap when it was her turn to be introduced, and the girl had the decency to at least glance at Emma with a touch of shame in her eyes before batting her eyelashes at Thorin. They were dismissed with a wave of the king’s hand and a curt nod, to be replaced by the next family. And as it went on and on, Emma sat on her throne more and more stiffly. She was humiliated; humiliated by women being flaunted to her husband right in front of her, humiliated by the disregard that was given to her by people that wanted to become her subjects, but most of all she was saddened by the downfall of her marriage.

It was late in the afternoon when the last newcomers made their way to the king and queen, this time not a family but a grandmother that looked older than Arda itself and, what Emma presumed, her granddaughter, a little girl of no more than 12 that held a doll in her hand. Unlike the others, these two did look like they just walked across Arda, their clothes ragged, their faces weathered and their shoes worn so long it was nothing short of a miracle that they were still in one piece. The little girl made the cutest curtsy Emma had ever seen, and she gave er a warm smile, causing the girl to look to the floor in shyness. When their names were called, Emma not fully registering them as her attention was drawn to the little girl, Thorin was ready to dismiss them with yet another wave, but the grandmother stepped forward and made a little bow, bending as deep to the floor as her old bones would let her.

“With your permisson, your highness?” She croaked, looking at Emma expectantly.

It was a nice change in the dullness and repetetiveness of the day, and the gleam in the old woman’s eyes, so unlike the tired and ragged rest of her, made her curious as what she might have to say, so she nodded.

She had expected the woman to speak again, but instead she took several quick steps forward, with quite the agility for one so old, and stood in front of Emma, staring at her face. When the queen frowned, she gently took her chin and lifted her head up a bit.

In Emma’s mind everything went in slowmotion, but in reality it took a mere second for all of this to happen, and it wasn’t untill the woman was looking Emma in the eye that Thorin grabbed her arm and forcefully dragged her away from his wife, guards hurriedly closing in on them.

But Emma had felt something wash over her when the woman had touched her, some sort of peace filling her, enveloping her in warmth. Her touch had felt familiar in a way, and she somehow knew she had nothing to fear from the woman. So she also stood up, calmly approaching the woman and looking at her with a small frown, wordlessly asking what she wanted.

“You need to find calmth, your highness.” The woman whispered in that crooked voice only really old people seemed to have; people that had seen so much that the content of their heart seemed to pour into their words. “You need to relax, or you will not succeed.”

Emma slightly tilted her head and looked at the woman for a moment while they were still being surrounded by soldiers and Thorin still held the woman back by her brittle arm. “Come with me” She said, and she beckoned the woman to follow her, slowly walking to her chambers.

Once arived there, the woman helped up the winding stairs by a guard while the little girl happily skipped behind them, she led her guests to the sitting room and ordered one of the servants to bring them something to eat and drink.

They woke in silence for the refreshments, sitting still on the opulent benches; the grandmother’s legs too short to reach the ground. The little girl was less still, looking around the apartment to the pieces of art and other bits on display. When the food and drinks were set on the table however, she nearly raced to them, only slowing down after a concerned look from her grandmother, clearly making an effort to eat and drink as slowly and neatly as she could. The old woman ate little, only taking small sips of the sweet tea while humming in delight of seeing the girl eat well.

When the girl seemed to have eaten enough, Emma looked at her with a kind smile. “Would you like some sweets?”

The girl nodded with a shy smile, and Emma pointed at one of the servants. “Go with Dander to the kitchen, they will have something for you there.”

The servant stepped forward and offered the child his hand, and she happily took it and walked as fast as her little legs could carry her.

Emma turned to the old woman, but she found she did not know what to say. She had brought her here on an impulse, not exactly sure why.

“No need to seek for words, your highness. Old Gendra knows what bothers you, I have seen it in your eyes.”

She paused a moment and looked at Emma’s eyes again, as if to prove her point. “You wish for a child, but it does not come. Moon after moon you curse your body, and with every moon you despair more heavily. You despise the blood that keeps coming.”

Her words on the female working of her body made Emma cheeks slightly pink in blush, but the woman continued unpertruded. “It is not your body nor its blood that is the problem, your highness. It is your mind and the weight in bears. You have not known a lot of peace since you have come here, and you have thought yourself into a state of neverending tension. Babies don’t flower under such conditions, so they choose to stay away.”

During the monologue, Emma’s shoulders had slumped and she had crouched into herself, as if she had wanted to protect herself from the words. Gendra saw it and tilted her head empathically. “It is not so bad, my sweet girl. Just uncoil yourself; free yourself from your burdens.”

“If I knew how, i would have done it.” Emma answered in a tone that suggested she might cry at any moment.

“Make well with your brother.” Was the last thing the grandmother said before she hopped of the sofa with again an agility that astounded Emma, and paddled out of the room.

 

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Emma must have sat still on the sofa for at least an hour, her tea going cold and her biscuits going stale, before she was pulled from her thoughts by Thorin tentatively putting his hand on her lower back and taking a seat next to her.

He looked at his wife and slowly pulled the fingers of her other hand through her soft hair while unconsciously humming deep in his throat. When all those girls were paraded in front of him today, he realised that he had neglected his wife in the previous weeks, had considered her a duty more than a pleasure. It had reflected in the absence of private dinners and the silences when they were alone. It had reflected in their uninspired lovemaking; gone was the unbridled enjoyment, taken by a more dull kind of fucking with just one goal. It had to end.

He was just about to ask after the mysterious old woman, when Emma looked at him. “I’m going to the Grey Hills.” She said, and then added: “With your permission.”

He clenched his back teeth, this plan crissing his own. “Is that wise?”

His wife Frowned a bit and seemed to think about his question before slowly nodding. “Yes, I think it is.”

“Alone?” There was a sharpness in his voice, but she did not want to acknowldge it, afraid to start another wordless fight.

“Yes.”

To her surprise he merely nodded and pulled her closer to him, untill she leaned with her head against her chest and he stroked the side of her face with a calloused thumb.


	6. One III

**”My queen.”**

Melo bowed deeply to his sister, showing her more respect than even the lowest of Erebor’s citizens would, his low voice reverbarating through the large entrance hall, bouncing of the granite walls. It was not all respect though, it was also a plea for lenience, for forgiveness and for a new start.

**”Nadad.”** Emma acknowledged his silent communication. **”Stand up and stop acting like a bloody fool!”**

Melo snapped straight and frowned in confusion of his sister’s intentions. He could not make out from the subtle nuances in her voice whether she had come in anger or in reconciliation, but it was cleared up when he looked into the emerald gleam of her eyes and saw nothing but benevolence.

**”Have you come for matters of state, namad?”** He carefully asked, not completely prepared to trust his instinct wth regard to her intentions.

Emma scoffed and waved his question away together with Jalila, whom had been standing by her side dutifully but not quickly slipped out of the room. **”Not at all. We both know we fare better if you hold the reigns.”**

It was true. Their homeland looked better than ever. The kingdom in the outskirts of the Grey Mountains had seen some drastic renovations in the past couple of years, though the characteristic granite remained a recurring view, as it was their trademark. But lighter elements had been added, gold and silver decorations in de facades of the buildings and brownish stone for the roads. And the houses and shops did not seem to be randomly hacked out of the stone anymore, but well polished and with a plan. It looked more prosperous, more kempt than she remembered, and it pleased her.

**”Me the reigns and you the brains, namad?”**

Emma sat down on one of the plush chairs in the room, sinking away in the lush pillows with a deep sigh. She pulled her feet underneath her and waited for her brother to also sit down, although it took him a few moment to understand he was to follow her lead. **”I can not for the moment.”** She started, but her words failed her and she remained silent while looking at the wall behind Melo.

**”I am ever yours to command, namad, whatever you need.”**

She was glad her brother did not need her to explain the hows and whys, thankfull they were still close enough for him to read her moods.

When his sister remained quiet where she would normally not have a problem with speaking her mind, Melo got up and sat on the armrest of her chair. **”How long do you wish to stay, namad?”** He carefully asked, probing what the real reason of her visit was.

She shrugged lightly. **”A couple of days.”**

Another silence fell, and brother and sister stared into the fire, both lost in their thoughts. Melo pondered about the reason for his sister’s sudden and unexpected visit. Marriage problems were ruled out as she would return to Erebor in a couple of days, and as she had said she did not want the strains of actually ruling for a while, it could not be that she was unhappy with his reign. Emma on the other hand thought of home and of the old woman. She had come here based solely on the feeling she could trust the woman, the feeling of warmth and security the woman had given her, and now that she looked at it rationally she found it rather silly.

**”Do you wish to speak of it, namad?”**

With a soft humm that expressed her failure to understand what he asked she looked up at him.

**”What had happened. In Erebor I mean, with Elrond and me and you.”** It was his best bet for his visit, but he seemed to have gambled wrong.

She stared at the fire again and shook her head. **”No. It will be burried and we’ll never speak of it again.”**

Melo frowned. She could not have found out, could she…

**”Is it Jalila then?”**He asked after another moment of tense silence from his side.

Again his sister shook her head. **”I know of the feelings between the two of you. Marry her if you like, she’ll be happy for it and I’ll be happy for the both of you.”** She said flatly, not knowing how many feelings of relief her casual statement released inside of her brother.

But it also brought confusion. If it was not about what happened, and not about Jalila, then it could only be about one thing, and he could not imagine Emma traveling all this way just for that, when she had not made the effort before.

**”is it about Eliana?”** he guessed again, now with a sadness in his voice.

**”Eliana?”** Emma asked with a raised brow.

**”Her passing?”**

**”Passing to where?”** The slight hint of panic in Emma’s voice told him she did not know.

**”Elrond did not write to you and did not send a courier?”** he carefully asked.

The knowledge of her mother’s passing slowly sank in, and Emma needed a few steadying breaths before she could answer. **”All letters were sent back unopnened and couriers were refused at the gates.”**

Melo nodded in understanding and regret. **”She withered away a few months ago. Life just seemed to seep out of her, without any reason.”**

Emma too nodded, but kept staring at the fire while taking his hand in hers.

An hour passed like that, both of them sitting still next to eachother without saying anything. But Melo spoke up again. **”The betrayal of Mina? I heard she sold information about you to others.”**

Emma frowned slightly, still upset what her handmaiden had done. After Thranduil talking about things that should be impossible for him to know without some sort of insider knowledge, she had Nori hunt down the culprit. The criminal-turned-noble still had his ways of finding the truth in situations like these, and it only took him a few days to find out it had been Mina all along. She had learned the common tongue by listening to so many conversations, but hadn’t told anyone about it. So she heard and understood everything without anyone knowing, and had turned that into a rather profitable business. Needless to say, it rather displeased Emma and Jalila and Shana. So Emma married Mina off to some far off dwarven clan in the Orocani and considered the case closed.

Emma shook her head at her borther’s question, a deep breath and slowly let it out. **”I have not been able to have children so far.”** She said in a flat tone while letting go of his hand. **”I was adviced to take some time to relax, and that is what I wish to do here.”**

The Grey Hills prince did not know what shocked him more: his sister’s confession regarding her fertility or the one regarding Mina’s faith. But as she seemed satisfied regarding the latter, he could only do something regarding the first, and he intended to do that to the best of his abilities.

**”Sleep now, namadith, in the morning I will make sure you get the rest and quiet you need.”**

 

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Melo did exactly as he had promissed, and for a week Emma did not have to lift a finger or devote a single thought to anything beyond the scent of massageoil she wanted used on her or the dishes she wished to eat that day.

And as the old woman had said, it helped. She felt lighter somehow, less burdened. She wasn’t sure if it was the absence of worrysome matters or the presence of her brother, but that didn’t matter; only the result in the end did.


	7. One IV

“Is he to stay here?” Thorin asked her in a grumpy and weary tone, after having given Emma’s brother a long, piercing glare that conveyed nothing if not hostility and utter, _utter_ annoyance.

He had greeted his wife in their chambers after her return from the Grey Hills, and what he saw delighted him. Not only did she look better, somehow she also _felt_ better. Her movements and words were no longer stiff as if she felt out of place, but had become free again, making them without thought.

But then she had informed him of her brother accompanying her and his elated mood evaporated to a point below zero. Durin’s day had already passed and snow had started to fall, so it was unlikely the thrice-damned man would make the journey home if there was no immediate reason.

Thorin had liked the absence of his brother in law, it had taken pressure off those around him. Things had seemed less tense at the queen’s cousel, his sister had informed him, and Jessa had seen less reason to nag at him over every perceived slight she had gotten from Emma. The mother of his son also felt less encumbered to sometimes bring Ferin to his apartment, instead of him going to hers.

“Yes.”

Her tone somehow felt defiant and mocking at the same time, and it raised a red hot ire in his chest, which he found almost impossible to pull back. “Tell me, Emma.” He drawled with a mocking smile on is face. “Is this what you do?”

She looked at him in confusion untill he continued. “When someone lets you down you just turn to another man in your life, setting us all up against eachother?”

He knew it was cruel to say it, but it was how he felt. He wanted to fix things between them with just the two of them, not with her brother whispering in her ear at every opportunity, causing division.

Emma clenched her jaws and jutted it forward, but when she looked at Thorin her expression softened and she slowly brought her hand to his face. When she laid her fingers on his cheek, he felt as if there was a jolt going through him, a wave that extuingished his burning anger. It had been a long time since there had been tenderness between them, the last months seemingly consisting of strained silence; the only time they touched was during their dutifull coupling.

But Emma seemed to rekindle the better times with her soft and slow stroking of his cheek, and he leaned into her touch. “I love him, Thorin. My life seems more dark, more empty without him.” For a moment her movements stilled, but then she continued. “And I can’t live in this snakepit with that emptiness and darkness surrounding me.”

Softly he sat down and pulled her with him so she stradled his thighs. Wrapping his muscled arms around her slender waist, he looked up at her. He studied her face for a while, the open expression on it and the hint of sadness in her eyes. “If you insist, Emma, I will do nothing but comply, but I urge you to be kinder to Jessa in return. I am too old to be dealing with petty grievances from women in my court.”

Emma dipped her head slightly and took her hand from his cheek, giving him only a curt nod to confirm she heard him. He carefully took her hand and placed it back on his cheek, wordlessly asking for her attention, for this moment to continue. His wife relaxed and sunk deeper into his lap, her legs spreading wider in the movement. Without words they both knew what the other needed and for a few moment they breathed eachothers air while holding their foreheads pressed to eachother.

Afterwards, when they laid besides eachother panting, she wasn’t sure who had made the first move, but the next moment they were kissing more and more fervently, untill Thorin had gotten up with her in his arms and walked them to the bedroom, locking the door behind him and taking her and his own clothes of in a rush. Their coupling was feverish, each making an attempt to be as close to the other as possible, trying to eliminate any possible space between them. Emma dug her fingers in his back and bottom, pulling him closer, while he wrapped his arm around her waist and almost painfully held her to him.


	8. Melo I

Thorin had woken up early for a council meeting, and Emma found her bedchamber to herself when she woke. It had been two moons, but she had been too afraid, too anxious to let herself believe even though all the signs were there. Yet now, as she slowly drew the tips of her fingers over the skin of her belly, eliciting thousands of tiny goosebumps, she allowed herself to hope. Hope she wasn’t wrong, hope she got her wish.

 

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Emma kept quiet, even to her husband and brother. But she underestimated them both, but her husband mostly, underestimated his observance. Thorin wasn’t king for no reason, he knew people, knew how to read them; though it could be discussed if he always knew his wife as well as he knew others. But one morning, about two and half months since she had missed her first blood, he sat next to her and held her hair as she violently threw up. He nodded and rubbed her back while she mumbled some excuse, carefull to keep his face blank. But when she had had a drink of water and had brushed her teeth, he leaned against the edge of the wash basin.

“Are you ever going to tell me, azyungal, or do you wish me to remain ignorant untill you start to swell?” he asked her casually, schooling his face not to show the joy and elation he felt.

“You know?” She asked, shock going through her.

Thorin laughed wholeheartedly, and shook his head is amusement over her surprise. “You have changed, geyhith, I have noticed. You look different, you speak different, you move different, you taste different. I have noticed.”

Thorin slowly straightened and offered her his hand in aid. When she took it, still dazed at his revelation, he led her to the edge of the bath. There, he took her nightgown of and casually dropped in on the floor. He glanced over her body for a quick moment and then softly pressed on her upper back to lead her into the sunken bath. Emma carefully placed her feet on the steps leading into the bath and sighed as the warm water envelloped her. Once she sat down on one of the steps deep enough into the water to be submerged up to her neck, Thorin let go of her hand and took his own nightclothes off, disguarding of them as casually as he had done wth hers.

He started with her hair, lathering it with jasmin scented shampoo and massaging her scalp. Emma hummed softly, enjoying his gentle touch and basking in his attention. Once every lock of her hair was washed to his satisfaction, he had her leaning back so her could rinse it out. He cleaned her hair as carefull as he had put the shampoo in it, running every strand individually through his fingers.

After that, he took a bar of soap and a wash cloth and set to washing her. In small circles he covered her whole skin, his hand disappearing under water to wash her legs. But when he got to her belly, the last part, his circles got bigger and the pressure lighter. He was completely focussed on it, and when he brought his face closer to the place his child was growing, Emma lazily pulled her fingers through his hair, enjoying the small moment of intimacy between them.

After a while Thorin got out of the bath and hurriedly dried himself up before helping Emma out and meticulously drying every spot on her body. When there was not a single drop of water left on her, he took her hand and led her to the big, standing mirror in her dressingroom. He placed her in front of it and stood behind her, his chin leaning on her shoulder. He ran his fingers down her sides, from her armpits all the way down to her hips, waves of shivers going through her, and rested them on her belly. He then sat on his knees at her side and tentatively kissed the skin there.

“You see, your musces are not so pronounced anymore.” He whispered, and then kissed the place where two vertical lines that had betrayed the presence of well trained abs had been.

He got up, and kissed her nipples even more softly. “The used to remind me of the peddles of those pink flowers growing on the mountain.”

“Centaury.” Emma supplies with a whisper.

“Yes. But now the colour looks more like the ground in spring, getting ready to feed.”

It made her a bit uncomfortable, clearly seeing the changes in her body and hearing her husband speak of her as a means to feed a child. But his clear admiration of her and the changes in her worked as a balm, and she surrendered to his caresses.

After a while he looked at her face again. “I will make a temporary chamber in my study, and I’ll have Dis organize a dinner to announce the news to our family.”

Emma’s eyes widened. She had forgotten about the tradition that dwarven husbands did not share the bedroom with their wife when she was with child. It was supposed to give her a more peacefull sleep, and it was believed that marital relations could harm the unborn child. Yet, she did not want to sleep alone, did not want to face the dark by herself. Emma started to tremble, and she wrapped her arms around herself to find some comfort.

Thorin looked at his wife with a from of condusion on his brow. One moment she had smiled almost etherically, but now she looked as if she were to cry. He cupped her face and tilted it up so he could look into her eyes. “What is it, azyungal?”

When she looked down to her side to avoid his gaze, he pulled her into an embrace, burrying his face in her hair. “Tell me, athumen, what bothers you?”

When he called her his queen, it hit her. Her pregnancy had suddenly created a reverence for her in him. He did not see her anymore as his wife, as his love, but as a higher creature, almost to be worshipped. She was not sure she liked it, this new dynamic between them, yet she did not want to let him down, she did not want to burden him or enstill guilt in him. Not now.

“Nothing, my husband. Just moods or something, I think.” She said while stroking the nape of his neck to divert is attention.

Thorin chuckled and looked at her again, planting a kiss on her forehead. “Come, lets get you dressed and at the breakfast table.”

 

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“I already said it, Thorin! I want Gendra!”

Emma nearly stumped her foot as a petulent little child, but somehow it vexed her to no end that she was not getting what she wanted and that the people around her did not understand.

“Azyungal” her husband started in an appeasing tone. “The old woman is no healer, she knows little to nothing about childbirth, I imagine. And we need to take extra care with you, you know that.”

It had been explained to her by a near army of healers, led by Oin. She was skinnier than other dwarven women, her hips weren’t as wide, she wasn’t as sturdy, and so on and so on. But as her child would probably be as large as any other dwarven child, there were worries. In his anxiety, Thorin had sought a feeling of security in surrounding her by as many healers he could find, but Emma knew it was empty solace. She found herself again following her heart where she would normally follow her head, and it told her that she wanted the old woman, of whom she knew nothing, by her side.

“I will send someone to find her, gehyith, and she can work together with the healers, what do you think about that?” Thorin tried, approaching her like she was an unpredicatble wild animal.

From the moment she had told him she was pregnant, Thorin had been nothing but forthcoming. Their householdstaff had been expanded, and there were people standing ready to cater to her every whim at every moment of the day, going as far as to help her get up from the sofa. Her brother found it endlessly amusing, often having to hide a grin or a snicker behind his hand or his cup, to see the interaction between his sister and his brother in law. The stern, severe and moody king under the mountain ran, bowed and bent at his wife’s every word. It made his happiness over his sister’s pregnancy even greater, and his time at Erebor even merrier.

But now he felt the need to speak up, afraid his sister’s _moods_ might lead her to making a potentially life threatening choice. “Have her by your side, namadith, but also have a healer.” He said, a hint of authority audible.

Emma twirled around to him, in her anger havng forgotten he was sitting there. “Pray tell, nadad, how extensive is your experience with childbirth? Have you put any children on this world? Because if you have, perhaps you can share some of that knowledge with me!”

Both Thorin and Melo shuffled a bit uneasy at her words, feeling a but queezy and ashamed at such topics. The first turned his feelings into silence, the second into a dry chuckle and a soft kiss on her forehead. “The woman will be by your side, but the healer will also.”

With those words he left the royal apartment to get dressed for the announcement dinner that would be held that evening.

Emma was still seething, though she was not sure why. Probably because the two men closest to her were making decisions for her they had no place making and then being patronizing about it.

“I do not claim to know the reasoning of women well, azyungal, pregnant women least of all.” Thorin said in a formal tone. “So it is difficult for me to figure out what you need. Perhaps you could be more forthcoming, so I can be a beter husband.” He paused a moment, seemingly thinking about how to phrase his next words. “I have to admit I am not really enjoying these last weeks. I merely wish to make this period easier for you, give you what you want. But from your reaction I can deduce I am not succeeding. So now I wonder what is so different now from the time before you told me you are with child, because you did not act like that then.”

He needed to draw some air after that long monologue that he delivered in one single breath, and for a moment his breathing was to only sound in the room. But then it was lost in the russle of her skirts when she sat down. Emma burried her face in her hands, and from the shocking of her shoulders it was clear she was crying, though Thorin only heard irregular breath, not wet sobs.

He sat next to her on the sofa and pulled her down so her head was lying on his lap. Soft, rumbling humms erupted from his chest in an attempt to calm her down, and after several minutes it seemed to work.

“I don’t want to be alone at night.” She said in a soft, trembling voice.

Thorin hummed again in acknowledgement, and softly stroked her head for a couple of moments. “As you know, but perhaps don’t want to hear, I was less carefull when Jessa was pregant. I—“ he hesitated for a moment, fearing his words might upset her further, but then he soldiered on. “I slept with her when she was pregnant. Many people said it was the actions of your brother that led to the early birth of Ferin, but I have always thought it was because of my actions. And I’ll not have it with you, with our child.”

“I do not ask you to lie with me, Thorin. I merely ask not to be alone.”

The pleading tone of her voice surprised him. He had expected her to get angry and lash out, but she did not seem to care he broached a subject that was still painfull on them both. So he pulled her closer and drew small circles on her neck with his thumb. “I can not sleep next to you without having you, azyungal. Call it weakness, call it lust, but it is what it is.”

A servant slipped into the room, quietly announcing that lady Dis had sent him to tell his highness dinner was in an hour. Thorin nodded and then sent him away with a wave of his hand, turning his attention back to his wife. “Is there anything else I might do for you to make this easier, Emma?”

But the interruption of the servant had broken the spell between them and she stiffly got up and walked to her dressing room while murmering an unconvincing ‘I will be fine’.


	9. Melo II

Emma had been feeling thoroughly cold lately, as if her bones themselves were frozen and ice seeped trough her veins. So new dresses were ordered and made, abandoning her normally flirtatious clothing style and replacing it with gowns that covered her up to her neck and wrists. It had raised a few eyebrows and turned a few necks, but this too was a style copied by the noble ladies of Erebor, and now Emma did not stand out as much as she had when she started wearing the dresses, as almost every woman now dressed like her.

This evening she wore a white one adorned with a gold embroided grain pattern, a collar that accentuated her long swam neck and tight sleeves that showed her slender wrists. Over her shoulders and upper back, a white fur from one of the foxes of the high north was draped, providing extra warmth. It contrasted beautifully with her dark hair, complementing her fair skin, and Thorin barely managed to stiffle a gasp when he saw her standing in her bedroom, Shana putting some stray strands of hair in their place.

With a small smile, he offered her his arm and together they walked to their dining room. Dis was waiting there for them, offering her brother a big smile, and Melo was already sitting at the table, whispering to Jalila who was bent over to him so she could hear what he said. Emma’s handmaiden was standing behind her queen’s chair, waiting for her to arrive, but she was so wrapped up in her conversation with Melo, she did not notice Emma walking in.

It gave Emma the opportunity to observe them freely for a moment. Jalila’s eyes shone when she looked at her brother, and he languidly ran his fingers over the hand she had put on the back of the seat. To her surpise, Emma saw a new ring on that hand, not a simple golden band Jalila usually had, but a heavy, yellow gold one set with a large diamond inside a circle of sapphires and emeralds.

She knew that ring, knew it well. It had been laying in Melo’s father’s drawers for the best part of a century, only taken out when Melo and her sneaked into his rooms and took it out to admire it. She had put it on her finger once, imagining getting a similar ring from a certain prince, but had quickly put it back when they heard footsteps nearing. And now it adorned Jalila’s hand. Emma was glad for it; happy her brother and her best friend found eachother. They would make a nice couple, undoubtedly their children would be fair, Emma thought with a smile before she interrupted their soft whispers by sitting down to Melo’s right.

Jalila immediately stiffened and bowed her head to Emma, pulling her chair back from the table in an attempt to aid her.

**“No need, soon we shall be equal, _sister_.”** Emma whispered.

Melo wanted to say something, but the other guests were coming in and taking their seat on the table. Normally everyone would be able to choose their seat themselves, as it was a family dinner, but this time Dis showed everyone to their appointed seats. With a smile Emma saw that all the companymembers and their wives were to join them. She saw the women often during the queen’s council of course, but she sometimes missed the men now everyone had taken their place within Erebor society and all were always busy.

But when they had all taken a seat, there were still four chairs empty, and Emma wondered whom they were for. One for Dis of course, but the other three? Thorin was busy talking to Fili, so she could not ask him. Instead, she looked at Jalila questionningly, but her soon-to-be sister in law shrugged her shoulders apologetically, indicating she also didn’t know. It was not untill the servants brought in the drinks, grape juice for Emma, that she found out. First Dain walked in, his loud and jovial greetings booming through the room, followed by no one else than Durer and Jessa, the latter holding little Ferin on her arm.

They made a polite bow for their king and queen, and then Jessa handed Ferin to Thorin at his beckoning. Before, he had looked utterly regal; the mighty raven crown on his head and his heavy shiny black fur coat covering his blue formal doublet. However, the effect was somewhat lost when he started blabbering to his son in a voice that could be described as purring.

Normally Emma would have encouraged him spending time with Ferin, but tonight she wanted it to be about her, and _their_ child. Melo saw the subtle changes in his sister invisible to others, her jaw tensing just a tiny bit, her eyes hardening a little, and quickly grabbed her hand under the table, softly squeezing it in an effort to keep her calm. And it worked. Besides from him, no one at the table noticed her anger, though that brought some disapointment to Jessa’s face.

Luckily, there was no opportunity for the feelings of either woman to surface, as the first course was brought in by the servants after a wave of Dis’ hand. When the bowls of light herbal soup with bread were placed in front of them, a silence fell as everyone was busy eating. The only sounds audible, besides the obvious ones of slurping which were inevitable when eating with dwarves, were those of Ferin cooing. His father teared off pieces of bread and dipped them in the soup before feeding them to the little boy, and Ferin seemed to love it. He clapped his little hands and pulled at Thorin’s beard braid. Emma realised she had never seen her husband interact with his firstborn, and she melted a little. Few would suspect it, but he really was very gentle and sweet with the baby.

At the end of the course, due to the late hour and the warm soup, Ferin started to get sleepy, rubbing his eyes with his little fists and making the most adorable little yawns. Reluctantly, Thorin brought him back to Jessa, who put her son in a little cod that Dis had placed in the corner of the room for this occasion.

A new round of wine was poured, and Thorin scraped his throat, getting the attention from his guests. He stood up, more clumsily than he would normally, and said in his formal tone that he usually reserved for court rulings and adressing foreign dignitaries:

“It is with great joy and pleasure that I am able to announce that my wife, your queen, is with child and is expected to give birth within five months.”

The due date had led to some discussion amongst the healers, as elves carry longer than dwarves, but in the end they had settled at 7 to 8 months. That did not matter at the moment though, as cheers and well wishes were yelled through the room. Thorin grabbed Emma’s hand and softly squeezed it while drawing small circles with his thumb. Questions were thrown at them, but answering was impossible, as everyone made so much noise they would not be heard. Dis even got up and kissed her brother on the cheek, happiness beaming off her like light off a firefly.

The only one not joining in the general cheer was Jessa, whom looked down at the empty plate in front of her. Dis had confided in her about the problems Thorin and Emma were having with conceiving, and secretly she had hoped they would remain childless and her son would take the throne. But now her hopes turned out to be in vain. She knew it was no use praying for a girl; dwarves never had a girl for the first child. So Thorin would have a legitimate heir and her son would disappear into the group of semi-nobles that did not really have a function within Erebor. But not all was lost yet. Events could lead to Emma losing the child, or leaving Erebor. Hope was never truely gone…..

After a couple of minutes things started to calm down, though Dwalin and Gloin’s discussion over the bet they would place did linger a bit, and the second course was served. Emma and Thorin did not have many chances to actually put food in their mouth, as questions and advice were continuously fired at them. In the end, Thorin took to answering them all, so his wife could get some food in her stomach. Once he took the lead, she could actually relax. She had feared tonight, though she was not sure why. There was absolutely no reason their announcement would not be received well, but her nerves were still wracked.

Melo leaned over to her. **”Feel better now, namadith?”** He whispered.

**”Yes.”** she answered him with a warm smile.

**”You know I will spoil the child rotten, right?”** He said with a crooked smile.

**”I would expect no less, nadad. Children are supposed to be spoiled.”**

He took her hand again and stroked it in support. He knew that this happy time was also difficult for her. She had confided in him that she did not know if she would be a good mother, as she had never had the right example in her own childhood. But he was sure she would be the most caring mother to be seen amongst dwarves, as she would always have in mind what she did not want happening to her own children. He smiled and looked at his sister again.

In the midst of everything, Durer got up and asked one of the servants where the toilet was. He was pointed to the door behind Thorin and Emma, and he slowly walked that way. Emma saw him wiggling his arm, but she did not pay much attention to it, her focus drawn to Jalila subconsciously rubbing her belly. She frowned a bit when all pieces fell into place, but she had no time to formulate the full thought, as the events that took place in that moment overruled everyone and anything.

Durer had been wriggling his arm to take a thin, long blade out of his sleeve, and within a split second he thrusted it into Melo’s heart before slitting his throat. It took a moment for everyone to register what had happened, and Durer used that confusion to disappear out of the royal apartment through the passageways. The other guests could merely stare at Melo. He also had had no time to register what had happened to him, and he passed with the smile he had worn when he looked at his sister in adoration.

Emma was the first to utter a sound. A gust of air was forced out of her lungs as if she was hit in the stomach. Following, Jalila started to scream, a high pitched noise that pierced eardrums and brought everyone back to reality. Emma did not hear it though. She could only stare at the calm looking corpse of her brother while hearing the sound of her own heartbeat in her ears. She did not notice Thorin jumping up and standing in front of her to protect her from a man that had already run away like the weasel he was. She did not notice the two princes standing next to her in an effort the block her view on her dead brother. The only thing she noticed was Melo and she stared at him with wide eyes and heavy, laboured breathing. Several women came to stand next to her, asking her questions, trying to get her to stand so they could lead her away. But she did not move. Untill she saw Jessa get up in the corner of her eye. Jessa, whom had lied about what Melo had done, whom had defamated her brother in Erebor, whom had nearly had him casted out. And whom now had her husband kill her brother. Of that she was sure. With a scream she jumped up and lunged at her husband’s former mistress. Animalistic instinct stook over from her years of training, and she tried to claw at her, tried to hit her, tried to grab her hair, do _anything_ that would cause her pain. But she was held back by Thorin. Her husband had moved to stand in front of him and had put his arms around her, holding her just tight enough so she could not get out of his grip but would not hurt her.

She did not hear her own wails and cries, she did not feel the hands on her that were trying to calm her down. She just wanted to get past that what held her back, get to Jessa to get her revenge, get to Melo to try and fix him.


	10. Melo III

He ran, ran as fast as his legs could carry him. He did not mind his jacket getting chafed on the wall as he took a turn, did not mind his braids started to unravel. He just ran. The directions he got from Mina after he paid her a hefty sum were invaluable, he thought as he saw the end of tunnel. Once outside, a horse with supplies would be waiting for him, and he could make his way to his father’s kingdom where Jess would soon join him.

He doubted if he would have dared to do this without his father being who he was, but the Iron Hills king had been aghast when he had heard Jess’ story about what Melo had done to her, even more so when Emma had rigged the vote to get Melo casted out. He had no doubt whatsoever his father would reward him for finishing that that bastard off. And he would be proud of his cunning in planning the whole thing, of course. No, there was no doubt in his mind whatsoever that this would gain him a high post within the Iron Hills. If he hadn’t been so out of breath from running, Durer would have snickered out loud when he got on the horse waiting for him as promised by one of his servants. He was mightily pleased with himself, and he softly kicked the horse in its flanks to get it going. But before the animal could spurt into action, his world went dark and he was carried away by two hooded, burly dwarves.

 

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Thorin carried his wailing wife to her bedchamber, leaving the chaos of the diningroom behind them. His path was cleared by one of the servants, whom would normally never dare to enter the queen’s bedroom, but saw this was an exceptionnal situation. He made sure the king had free passage, opened and closed doors, and then pulled back the blankets so the queen could lie in her bed.

But it wasn’t that easy. Emma was completely besides herself and clawed and released her fingers at Thorin’s doublet, making it difficult to lay her down. In the end, Thorin lied down next to her. He had no idea what to do or say to reach Emma and calm her down. The things he would normally do, stroke her hair and talk to her in a soft voice, did not seem nearly enough right now. She wailed and cried in an utterly broken voice, her eyes clamped shut and one arm around her belly. He looked at the servant and ordered him to fetch the healers; it would be utterly devastating if she lost the child on top of losing her brother.

While waiting for a healer that could hopefully give her something to sleep and holding his wife close, he ran the events through his head again. No one had seen this coming, him least of all. Durer had moved so fast, he doubted anyone could have done anything. He thought back on the shocked face of Jessa, and he was sure she did not have anything to do with this. But there had to have been an accomplice; Durer did not have the guts nor the knowledge to do this by himself. The only one he could think of who had the means and the power, was Dain. But Dain was his cousin, he would not do something like this to him or his wife. Would he?

His thoughts were disturbed by three healers stepping into the room and approaching the bed. Carefully, he pried Emma’s fingers off his jacket and stood up, his wife immediately curling into a ball. She was still crying, but her voice seemed to go hoarse, so her cries came out in broken sobs in the rhytm of her irregular breaths. The healers immediately kneeled by her side, wiped her face clean of the sweat and tears, tried to get her to anwer their questions and put their hands on her belly.

Thorin had never felt so powerless. All he could do was stand by the sideline and watch, unable to make a difference, so he left. In the antechamber he found a loudly crying Jalila lying on one of the sofas being comforted by Dis and Dina, and he quickly walked out of there too. A lot more painfull than his brother in law’s death was hearing the grief it caused. He didn’t handle grief well, he never had. For him it was somethign to be tucked away deeply inside, outing itself only in anger if need be, but never in tears. So he avoided it by checking in on his guards and soldiers.

As soon as his mind had wrapped itself around what had happened, he had sent men after Durer, but he had not heard anything back. Looking over the plain in front of Erebor, he could see several companies on ponies riding, their paths lighted by the torches they held. But he knew they wouldn’t find the son of his cousin; no one would be so studpid to kill a prince and then linger around to get caught.

He stood for what must have been an hour at Erebor’s gates, thinking of how this possibly could have happened. His joy had turned to ashes in his mouth. Not over Melo, he couldn’t stand the man, but over the pain his wife was in during what should be the best time of her life. Thinking of that, he turned on his heels and slowly walked back to the royal chambers.

Thorin frowned as he walked in, not because of what he heard, but because of what he didn’t hear. There was no more wailing and no more crying. Jalila had appearantely moved from the antechamber as the sofa was empty, and he didn’t hear anything coming from the bedroom. He carefully opened the door and peered inside. What he saw there made him frown even more; Emma was rolled up on her side, and around her were the weathered arms of the old woman whom had spoken to her at the arrival of the newcomers. She rocked his wife slowly and murmured into her ear, not paying any attention to his presence. From the rhytm of her chest moving up and down by her breathing, he knew Emma was sleeping, and he could exhale in relief.

“Come hold her, your highness.” The grandmother softly croaked at him without looking up. “She’ll have a difficult night.”

He nodded and tentatively stepped to the side of the bed. “What have they given her?” he whispered.

“Nothing. It could harm her, or the babe. And she needs to process this, not push it away with some draught.”

With a tender smile she slid herself out of the bed and pointed Thorin at where he should lie down, after which she paddled out of the room. Thorin did as he was bid by the peculiar, strange woman and lied down as carefully as he could. But the matrass tipped under his weight, and he heard Emma’s breathing change. Immediately he imitated the way the grandmother had rocked his wife, and it seemed to calm her down.

 

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When the sun came up, bright rays shone through the thick glass panes of the window, warming up the room and giving the impression it was just another, normal winter day. But when Emma opened her eyes, she knew it wasn’t. Her whole face felt swollen, and she couldn’t open her eyes well. She was restricted by her dress, and she felt her hair sticking to the nape of her neck. But most of all, she felt a gaping black hole in her chest. Tears welled up in her eyes again, but she fought hard to push them back. Today, her grief had to wait, she had things to do; the least she owed her brother was a funeral befitting a Grey Hills royal.

The second she put her foot on the cold floor, the door to her bedroom was slowly opened and Shana stuck her head around it, sighing in relief that it was Emma that had woken, and not Thorin.

She followed her queen into her dressing room and made a short bow. **”My apologies, Jalila is---“**

**”Find a female servant and have her take care of Jalila.”** Emma replied curtly to Shana’s stuttered apology, though she said it with as kind a smile as she could muster. **”I need to get dressed and then we need to plan the funeral and send out the crows.”**

Shana nodded and looked around Emma’s dressing room, taking out a few black gowns for Emma to choose from. Per tradition, she would be wearing the dress for the coming week, so it was important she felt comfortable in it. Well, as comfortable as she could be, Shana thought.

In the end, they settled for a gown with a high collar but a bit of a clevage, long sleeves and a rather tight fitting skirt that tapered out from the knees. It was completely covered in matted black beads, twisting and twirling in abstract figures that came together around a stylistic head of a wolf on the back, and it showed the beginning swell of her belly. For many it would have been far too much of an extravagant dress for a funeral and mourning period, and it was initially made for some ball that was to be held in a couple of weeks by the noble ladies of Erebor. But Emma thought it perfect. Her brother had it made for her in the week she had stayed in the Grey Hills, and he had adored her in it. So she would wear it, no matter how many tongues it would wag.

Shana draped a black panther fur over her shoulder and lastly covered her hair and face with a black lace vail. Being covered head to toe should have reminded her in a bad way of the years that Melo’s father had forced her to wear a similar veil, but now it felt as if there was a protective shell around her. She could observe the world, but could not be seen. It was a cocoon she could retreat in.

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They sat at the desk in Thorin’s study, copying the letters that were to be delivered by crow to those who knew Melo or who had political ties to the Grey Hills. She would have taken the table in the dining room, so the clerks that were helping them could sit with them, but although the servants had cleaned all night and there was no trace left of the disaster that had happened, it nearly made Emma throw up thinking of sitting there again.

She herself wrote the letters to her council herself, urging them to hurry to Erebor and aid her in these times and bring what was needed. Once finished, Shana brought it to the crow immediately and sent the bird on its way. Next followed a letter to Elrond. Melo had told her how he had grown closer to her father in the time he had spent in Rivendel after their mother’s funeral, and Emma believed he should be informed of his stepson’s death by her personally. But when she put the inked feather on the paper, she did not know how to begin. Should she call him ada, Elrond, or perhaps lord Elrond? She started over several times, but managed to produce a letter that came close to what she meant to convey only after eight tries. She had it sent before she could change her mind.

Hours later, when the sun had reached it highest point and she had sent Thorin away several times, they were done. With the help of a small army of clerks, hundrerds of letters had been sent out, carried by a large flock of crows to all corners of Middle Earth. Almost everyone used ravens to deliver messages, except for Elrond using falcons, and Emma and Melo using crows. Ravens might have the ability to speak a few words, but they knew crows were much smarter, and much more reliable.

She got up from the desk and slowly walked out of the royal apartment. Servants had informed her Melo’s body was put in the infirmery untill she ordered otherwise, so that is where she went. As she walked through the hallways, the Ereborians stepped aside and bowed to her, murmering condoleances. She knew they were mere hollow words, Thorin’s whore had turned public opinion against her brother, so she passed them without acknowledging their presence.

When she entered the infirmery, the healers present tried to speak to her, advising her to have someone else take care of her brother, sending nurses out to fetch the king; it was as if their blabbering never ended. But she let it all slide of the shield of her veil, and proceeded to the room she suspected her brother to be in while waving them away. And she was right. When she had opened the door after having taken a deep breath, she saw him peacefully lying on the bed in the center of the room. Shana hurried in behind her, carrying a basin ans several linnen washcloths.

In silence they started their work, carefully undressing the prince and running the cloths drenched in the herbal infused water from the basin over his skin. The healers had already closed his throat and the wound in his chest, but the black threads marring the skin made her shiver, perhaps more than the open wounds would have. But she pushed on, determinded to finish what she believed her duty. In the end, they managed. Melo’s straw blond hair was combed and braided, adorned with the proper braids and beads, as was his beard. He was clad in a black doublet and soft leather pants to match, both decorated with anthracite embroidery. Finally, they had put his leather boots on and crossed his arms over his chest. Melo was ready to meet the Maker.

 

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“Azyungal?”

Thorin calmly walked into the room where Emma had been staring motionless at the dressed corpse of her brother for at least and hour, to the concern of the healers, and put his hand on her shoulder.

“You should rest, you have strained yourself.”

Emma took the arm that was offered to her without really paying attention to what she was doing and together they walked back to the royal apartment, Thorin nodding at the people that murmered their condoleances again while Emma kept ignoring them. Once in the apartment and the doors closed behind her, she calmly took off her veil and sat down, folding the piece of fabric in her lap.

“Emma, I—“ Thorin started, but he fell quiet when he looked at him, her eyes seemingly on fire.

“It was that orc-whore of a sister of yours that invited them.” She started calmly while getting up again, but with burning ice in her voice. “It was that foul wench that squeezed out your bastard that planned it. It was your troll of a cousin that approved and financed it. And it was that goblin excriment son of a cousin of yours that executed their gods-damned plan.”

“Emma!” Thorin blurted out, breathing heavily. He had expected to be angry, enraged even, and put the blame for this on him or his sister, but he had not expected this pure, cold hate. “You need to gather yourself, Emma.” He said hoarsely. “I know you can not now, but you need to step back and look at this more rationally.”

Her bottom lip started to tremble and she turned her back to him. Tentatively he stepped behind her and carefully wrapped his arms around her. But as he did, she swirled around.

“This is your fault!” She yelled at the top of her lungs and she slapped his cheek as hard as she could.

When he did not do anything, she hit him again, not minding the trickle of blood coming from the corner of his mouth. She just could not be the only one in agony, she needed him to be in pain too, she needed him to _do_ something so she could concentrate on physical pain instead of this roaring hurt inside of her.

For a moment Thorin stood petrified. In his lifetime no one had ever dared to hit him like that, like he was some common tavern wench. Anger flamed up swiftly, but died down equally fast. She was not in her right mind, no one would after seeing one’s brother die like that. He still remembered findin Frerin's body after that faithfull battle, and it had nearly caysed him to barge into his grandfather's tent and pummel the madman to death for his stupid decisions. His wife hitting him was nothing in comparison. So he held her tighter and let her yell out her anger untill she could do nothing more but struggle to get out of his grip, her hands balled to fists between them. But he did not relent. He refused to let go of her and have her hurt herself.

They remained in their spot like that, his arms like iron cuffs around his squirming wife. It seemed like an eternity, but as the sun began to set she started to relent, and could do nothing more than sob into his doublet while trying to hit his chest with balled fists without any determination behind her strikes.


	11. Melo IV

“My queen? Emma? Emma?”

Shana gently shook Emma’s shoulder in an attempt to rouse her. With reluctance Emma opened her eyes, shielding them with one hand against the rays of pale winter sun that pierced through the gaps between the curtains.

“What?” She murmured.

“Your advisors are here. And so is your—eeeeh---“ Shana said, nervously pulling on a loose thread on her dress.

“My what?” Emma said in an impatient tone, annoyed by the early morning and Shana being so, so _fidgetty_ …

“Your father.”

Emma needed to process for a moment. Advisors here. Good? Elrond here? Doubtfull, if not impossible. She pushed herself up to a sitting position, but almost immediately felt queezy; waves of nausea running through her. She waved at Shana to bring her a bucket with some urgency, and thankfully the handmaiden moved quickly, as Emma threw up the moment she held the bucket under her face.

Shana, having gotten used to it over the past three months, walked back to the bathroom and fetched a cup of water. After a while, Emma felt a bit better, and Shana quickly discarded of the bucket and its contents.

“I will have a bath and then I’ll receive my visitors here. I do not feel like leaving my chambers.”

She had organised all that needed organising the day before, and now there was no strength or determination in her left to make the effort to get out of bed. It seemed so pointless; there was nothing to do, only stare at a wall or listen to useless blabbering.

When Shana nodded and went to prepare the bath, Emma added: “And please see if Jalila is well enough to keep me company this afternoon.”

 

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**”We’ll spare no means and leave no stone unturned.”**

The statement was made by a burly dwarf, his hair black as coal and his voice rough as a bear. But his eyes, that could elicit thunder under different circumstances, now shone with determination.

**”Good.”** Emma answered dryly. **”But perhaps it won’t be necessary.”**

**”I want him right where he belongs, in the deepest cellar underneath our mountain.”** Melo’s uncle Rykar stepped forward from the shadows and gave her a smile so much like Melo’s it nearly made her choke. But she breathed deeply and smiled back.

**”Thank you, my counselmen.”** She said with a highly composed voice. **”Please make use of my private study and come back tonight to present me your plans.”**

With a bow they left, only Rykar lingering behind. **”Are you well, Emma?”** He asked hesitantly. **”I mean, in your condition, and—“**

**”I am well, uncle, thank you.”**

He looked at her a moment longer, as if he wanted to say something, but then nodded and left, softly closing the door behind him. Emma turned on her side and looked out of the windows. Snow had started to fall, and small flakes twirled out of the sky, providing a cold blanket for the northern lands. She smiled melancholically. Melo had always loved the snow, uncaring of the cold or the biting winds, whereas she would always start shivering after 5 minutes and got terribly competetive and begrudgefull in a snowballfight. She pulled the blankets a little tighter around herself at the thought and a tentative smile appeared on her face.

After a while there was a knock on the door, and when she did not hear Shana, she told the visitor to enter herself, though she did not feel like sitting up or even turning around. She wished to remain in this little snow globe of hers forever.

~” When our favorite flower turns brown, all others seem to wither as well.”~ Spoke the well known, solemn voice.

~” But color never truely leaves our sight, as long as we look well enough.”~ Emma finished the Elvish saying without true belief in her voice.

Yet it gave Elrond enough courage to sit at her bed beside her, looking through the window as his daughter did.

“Eliana told me he loved the snow, how she couldn’t keep him inside once there was enough to sleigh on.”

The thought of sending him away crossed Emma’s mind. He had after all betrayed her, allowed her to be attacked. But she was too weary to make the effort, and she had forgiven her attacker after all, so she should also get over her resentment to him. But she did not answer her father, it was too painfull to visit those memories again.

“He wrote to me about you. His heart was seeing colors again, for the first time since Eliana’s passing.” Elrond said it in his normally composed voice, but he had to work very hard to keep a tremble at bay. “He was very happy about becoming an uncle. And about finding his own happiness.”

Emma nodded mutely and took a deep breath. “I—I believe he was to have his own child not too long from now, though I don’t think he knew already.”

Thinking about it was too much, and she burst out in sobs again. When she turned onto her belly and cried her sobs into her pillow, Elrond started to tentatively rub her back and hum a sooting nursery rhyme, that he had always found comfort in when sung to him by one of his caretakers as his mother used to sing it to him when he was still with her, to Emma. But when his thumb brushed the skin of her neck uncovered by her dress, he took his hand off her as if it were burnt. She did not notice his sudden reaction, and slowly he put his fingers back on her neck again, carefully brushing her hair aside.He smiled to himself and then started to rub circles on her back again, his hand circling the head of the Grey Hills wolf beaded on her dress.

 

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Shana and Emma’s advisors had planned the funeral according to her wishes, and it fell to the former to wake Emma in the morning. But when she entered the bedroom, it turned out that wasn’t necessary. The deep sounds of the horn at the gate and the trembling of the ground signaling the Grey Hill royal private army nearing had already woken the queen up, though she wasn’t alone.

Emma had been standing in front of the open balconydoors for quite a while already, mindlessly watching her brother’s private army approach. Their armour of blackened steel made the long rows of soldiers seem like a snake rolling through the white snow. They no longer wore the colors of her brother, as he had passed, but they came to ask her of they could wear hers and swear their loyalty to her. If they could become her private army, her leverage against anything and anyone. She felt it was ill begotten, this army. Her brother shouldn’t have died yet, they should have served him a lot longer still. She knew how he liked having elite soldiers just for himself, it was a long tradition in the Grey Hills. The ruler had, besides the regular Grey Hills army, a smaller army that owed loyalty, feilty and allegiance to just the ruler, no one else. And when that ruler died, and only when the ruler died not when he stepped down, they were releaved of their oaths, free to do as they pleased, whether that be asking the new ruler to allow them to swear loyalty to him or to roam out into the world and make their living another way.

It was Thorin’s warm hand on her back that had brought Emma back to the here and now. After their fight the previous night, he had finally figured out what it was his wife needed, and as they stood next to eachother in silence, he gave it to her. She did not need words or an outlet for her anger, not from him. From him she merely needed a warm hand on her back.

When Shana came in, Emma took a seat at the mirror and the tedious process of braiding her hair correctly began. For once in her life, Emma adhered to tradition and let her hair speak for her. After two hours, her hair was braided into a thick braid that curled over her back. Attached to it in some places and hanging next to it in other places were several smaller braids, starting as circles over her head and twisting further they were adorned with beads in mythril, diamond, jade, gold and even granite. The prettiest ones were at the bottom of the braid, where the bigger and smaller braids were intertwined and bound with ropes of gold. Thorin had one long, admiring look at the endresult before Shana covered Emma’s head with the lace veil.

 

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When she was ready and Jalila had joined them, Emma opened a drawer beneath her mirror and took out two diamonds the size of chicken eggs. Everyone’s eyes were glued to them for a moment, untill Emma casually put them in a small bag and started walking out, Thorin supporting her while Jalila and Shana walked behind them. When they entered the burial halls, most mourners were already there, standing around Melo, whom was placed on top of the coffin for the burial. Emma carefully approached him, not even noticing the people present. When she reached him, she saw the wax-like texture of his skin and felt how cold his hand was, and her heart then also knew he had really passed; had left this world to await the remaking of it. So she put the diamonds on his eyes and stroked his cheek as he used to do for her.

In mourning, unlike in life, everyone is equal. Grief can not be measured by titles, and pain not by wealth. So in the burial halls, there were no thrones nor reserved seats. Everyone stood around the coffin and sang the songs of passing. When several hours of singing had passed Emma’s generals stepped forward and carefully lifted Melo up while six officers lifted the top of the coffin. Melo was placed in it and the officers wanted to put the lid is back on, sealing the coffin shut. But Emma raised her hand, ordering them to wait. They immediately halted their movements, their eyes on Emma to await further instruction. She took a fine knife out of her small bag and Shana lifted the back of her vail a bit. She took the bottom of her braids, the part held together by the golden ties, and cut it off in one smooth movement. Shana handed her the cut off braid and Emma carefully put it on Melo’s chest, the beads shining in the light of the candles. When Jalila, Shana and all others from the Grey Hills have also offered their hair in grief to Melo, Emma waved at the officers to close the coffin. When she looked at the cover, she smiled melancholically. Additional the traditional geometrical carvings, she had chosen for writing in gold in the cipher she and Melo used to write eachother in. Very few could read it, but she knew it said ‘Here lies Melo, loved beyond measure’.

She stepped forward and kneeled next to the coffin, pressing her forehead to it. One last time she whispered, one last time she shared her secrets. And then she got up and left the hall.


	12. Melo V

“I’ve not had the opportunity for saying this sooner, but my congratulations on your wife’s pregnancy, Thorin.”

Thorin gave a curt nod in acknowledgement of Elrond’s words, but did not speak himself. They stood in Erebor’s great gates together, watching how Melo’s private army now swore feilty to Emma. She looked even smaller than she really was, standing on the snow white plane, legion upon legion of muscled, armour clad soldiers in front of her, bending the knee. Although rationally he knew he should not be enjoying this moment, as their culture dictated that women stayed in the background, he couldn’t help but admire her. It was her, and only her, that got herself in such a position of great power, perhaps even greater than his own. But he also what it had costed her and was still costing her. And he wondered if her crown was too heavy for wearing. If the profits made up for the hurt.

“I—“ Elrond disrupted his thoughts. When the elf lord slowly breathed in, and let the air out again, Thorin looked up at him, curious as to what may cause such a distress in the normally most composed of elves. “I would like to stay for a while. She—her pregnancy—“

As Elrond could not continue and fell silent, Thorin frowned and clenched his jaw. “Though I perhaps may not be the one suitable to speak on this, her welfare did not matter to you before, only a nearly worthless ring.” He said casually while turning back his eyes to his wife.

Once again she was faceless, but where it had lessened and humiliated her before, her veil now only seemed to act as a reminder of her strength. It was her, this tiny woman even in his eyes, that an elite army bent the knee to, her that held fast the most northern dwarven kingdom.

“A ring?” Elrond said in a sharp voice, pulling Thorin back from his ponderings. “What kind of ring?”

“The round kind.” Thorin said curtly. “Stay if you wish, but I don’t think I need to remind you what exactly will happen should you choose to upset my wife again.”

As the dwarf king walked back into Erebor, quite uninterested in having a conversation with the Elf lord, Elrond stared at the back disappearing in the darkness. Thorin’s casual remark had disentangled one of the many knots of questions that had formed within him after the devastating events that had led to the estrangement between him and his daughter. A twinge of recognition, if it could be called that, moved within Elrond, but as of yet he did not know what it meant or what it would lead to.

 

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“I have not been kind nor respectfull to you.”

The recognition of the standard of her behavior was not easy for Emma, but she clenched her teeth and continued nonetheless. “Yet now I wish to ask a favor from you.”

Galadriel looked at the telltale signs of grief on the face of her son in law’s daughter. The second Emma had shown her into her apartment and had taken her veil off, it had beamed off her. Pain, sadness and uncertainty all mixed together in a blue glow that was almost too easy to read. And Galadriel knew what Emma was going to ask of her; many whom had found themselves in a similar position had requested the same. And she had had to disappoint all of them.

“If I could give you what you need in these dire times, I would, no matter our past differences. But I can not.” She said with an empathic smile.

Emma clenched her fists and deep wrinkles started to appear on her forehead, yet when she spoke her voice was as even as ever. “Your abilities are spoken of in all corners of Middle Earth. They say there is no one more powerfull than you. Yet now you tell me you can not give me what I want before waiting to find out _what_ it is that I need from you.” She paused and swallowed thickly. “I will give you whatever you want, Galadriel, for just this favor.”

Galadriel tilted her head and once again smiled. “I have seen many die or leave for the undying lands, some of them my own kin. I too have known the all consuming desire to speak to them one last time, yet I could not clench my want. It is beyond my powers.”

The distrust completely disappeared from Emma’s face, and was replaced by something more daunting; pure agony. “You don’t understand, Galadriel!” She pleaded. “I know you can not bring him back, I know not to ask for something unnatural! But I _need_ to speak to him, just for a moment! You have no idea what is at stake!”

Long ago Galadriel had promissed herself not to enter the minds of those clearly unwilling, but even the grand elven lady had her moments of weakness, and in this moment she broke her vow and saw what Emma had seen, what she thought, and, most importantly, what it was she so desperately wanted to consult her brother on. It was clear she didn’t merely wanted a last goodbye, there undoubtedly was more.

Breaking her promise might be a bit of a dent to her ego, finding out she wasn’t as strong as she believed herself to be, and it was a wise lesson for the future. But it was certainly worth it, as her instincts had been correct. Emma knew that Melo was convinced of her love for him, and that she would take care of his girl, she could clearly see that in the whirlwind of thoughts. It was nothing as grand as love and last goodbyes, but more like the mundane of making decisions when ruling a kingdom.

She withdrew from Emma’s mind after seeing that, and looked at the girl once more, softly placing a hand on hers. “No one can give you what you need right now, no matter the reason for your urgency. Not even the Dark Ruler himself could reach into the realm of the death. For Melo, Mahal rules there, and he does not allow that what had been given to him to be taken away, not even for a moment.”

She had turned people down before, outright refusing them or gently trying to sway their thoughts, but it never caused her hurt like this. As she saw Emma’s face turn to stone and heard her say a polite ‘thank you for your time’, it did something to her. Whether it was because Emma was blood of her blood, or because she had seen her grow up within a short span of time, there was definitely hurt in her heart for the girl, combined with the wish to stay in Emma’s new found good graces for her. So she let her hand travel up and cup Emma’s jaw. “I can not give you insight in that what is in the past, child of my son in law, but I can give you a view of what is to come.” She offered.

Emma looked up, her eyebrows furred together in confusion. “What is to come?”

Galadriel smiled, wider now as she knew that what she had to offer was something Emma would want. “Of what is growing inside of you.”

Emma licked her bottom lip and looked at Galadriel with wide, taxating eyes. She most certainly wanted to know, but she was unsure if Galadriel was giving her the whole truth, and what she would want in return for her knowledge. Nothing was ever free in this world, so she shook her head and left the room.

 

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She waddled. There was no other, or more flattering, way to describe her walk. It was a textbook waddle, with her hips swinging from side to side a bit and her feet put down somewhat unsteady. When no one was looking, it made him chuckle, but even then only behind his hand. However, wading through the snow, it stood out less as anyone would have walked a bit strange through a meter of the icy powder.

He himself detested it, and he seemed to remember that Emma hated snow and cold as well, yet she appeared to be fine with it now. This was one of the few times in the two months since her brothers funeral that she smiled, watching her plough through the snow seemingly without a clear goal and refusing anyone’s help. He assumed she was only out here as an hommage to Melo or something, reliving her memories.

In her behavior, he saw the spirit of the Grey Hills, the independance of the people of those hard, unforgiving mountains, but also the loyalty to those they deemed worthy and their free thinking; their spirits ever unbroken, no matter what happened to them. He hoped Emma would forever be like that, always be herself and never change. He wanted to freeze this moment in time to see her smile forever like that, shed her worries for eternity. But he knew that where dwarves were like stone, ever steady and unchanginging, elves were like trees, always growing and winding in new directions in adaptation to their surroundings. He wondered which one she was, if she was one of both or a mix of the two.

 

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The fresh air had tired her, as everything drained her energy lately, and she seemed to have taken a seat on the bench in front of the heart in the sittingroom to warm up and then fallen asleep on the spot. Her long, dark tresses spilled over the side of the opulent bench, while the rest of her was virtualy completely covered by a bearskin. How anyone could stand being so close to the fire and still cover themselves with a fur was beyond him, but she did. On a lush chair next to her sofa, Elrond was seated, looking at her while deep in thought, his hands in front of his face, only the fingertips touching eachother.

When Thorin walked in, his father in law looked up and gave him the barest of smiles. “She sleeps.”

Thorin nodded and sat down on a similar chair opposite to Elrond, at Emma’s feet. “It won’t be long, just another two months, the healers think.”

Elrond pursed his lips. “And have your healers thought about the delivery of the baby?”

Thorin scoffed, feeling like his kingdom was being judged. “They are healers in service of Erebor, specially selected to help their queen. Of course they have!”

“Have you ever compared your wife to dwarven women, Thorin?” Elrond asked while rubbing his forehead. “Have you seen how they are built differently?”

Those two questions gnawned at the insecurity Thorin was already feeling about this pregnancy. Deep inside he also knew this wasn’t like any other pregnancy, that there were a lot more risks, but he didn’t want to think about it. It would be just unfathomable for him to loose Emma. He was a lot older than her, an he had always believed he would go to the halls of waiting long before she did, though they had never spoken about it. Thinking about her going before him was just impossible for him. So as all Durins did when a subject was touched they didn’t want to speak about, he turned to formality and distance. “Thank you for your concern, lord Elrond, but I have been assured everything will go as it is supposed to.”

 

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She woke up in the middle of the night without any idea of how she got to her bed. The last thing she remembered was sitting in front of the fire to warm up, though it hadn’t helped much. _Thorin must have carried me to bed, not wanting to wake me up_ , she thought. She looked around the room that was only sparely lit with two candles on her dressing table. The dark space was daunting, and she felt the walls closing in on her, taking her air from her, as she had felt for so many nights since Thorin had turned half his study into a temporary bedroom.

On the wall facing her, the shape of a door was already hewn out, leading to what was going to be the nursery. Although Thorin had already arranged for day and night nannies, Emma had insisted on also having a direct entrance to the rooms her children would sleep in, and of course everyone had done as she wanted. But now, that door seemed to be a black hole, ready to swallow her whole. She felt as if it was coming closer, and she shifted under her blankets a bit.

Suddenly the cold she had been feeling for months turned into an unbearable heat, sweat dripping down her neck and back, and she wanted to throw the blankets off. But without them, she felt even more vulnerable to the dark and the shadows, and the cold on her face and chest created an uncomfortable contrast to the heat on her neck and back.Emma felt as if it was getting difficult to breathe, and this night she did what she had wanted to do for so many nights.


	13. Emma I

Thorin was woken by the sharp creaking of the door and the soft ray of light entering the room. He recognized the person entering his room, and immediately he sat up.

“What?! What is it? Is it starting?” He blurted out, his voice low with sleep.

But Emma said nothing, instead appraching his bed and then carefully pulling up the blankets and stepping into it. She manouvered herself closer to him, untill she laid with her back pressed to his chest and her head leaning on his arm. After a moment of doubt, Thorin laid closer to her and put his other arm around her waist, his hand lying on her swollen belly.

He had not touched her like this since they had stood in front of the mirror naked together, and her body had changed a lot. Her breasts had swollen and her belly had become much rounder, growing almost daily. Tentatively he started moving his fingers, even though he knew he shouldn’t. He _should_ just go back to sleep, or play with her hair a bit, but he couldn’t resist. In the roundness he was stroking was his child, slowly growing. Emma got to feel it every day, whenever she wanted, and when he felt a very little flutter under his hand, he couldn’t stand the unfairness of it all anymore.

“Can I—can I feel, azyungal?” He shyly asked, ashamed of his desire, that went squarely against everything his culture taught him about pregnant women. They were to be left in peace, and grow into their role as mother by themselves. Certainly not bothered by husbands that wanted to be part of their process. It was his selfishness in this that caused him shame, selfishness to a point that he asked her wife if he could feel her pregnant body; it was almost as bad as what he had done to Jessa.

Yet, without a word, Emma sat up and took her nightgown off. Even in the sparcely lit room he could see how her body had become fuller. Not only her belly, that was obvious of course, but also her breasts, her legs, her arms, everything really. For a while, he just stared at her while she sat, leaning on her arms behind her. With the barest of nods, she urged him to act on his desires, and tentatively he put his bare hand on the naked skin of her belly. His wife lied back and placed her arms above her head, so he could see everything of her, and he started stroking her belly. She felt warm even for a dwarf, but it did not feel abnormal. Instead, he felt like this is how it was supposed to be, it felt _right_.

And in that moment, in that carefull connection between them, he forgot about himself, he forgot about who the both of them were supposed to be and how they were supposed to act. Morals, rules and obligations dicatated so much in their lives, but right now he could let go of it all. And when he felt a light kick under his hand, a dry sob escaped him and he had to pinch the bridge of his nose to prevent tears from escaping his eyes.

Emma tentatively placed her hand on his and led him to the spot on her stomach she knew the next kick would come. When it came, she saw her husband smile with a warmth she had only seen in rare moments.

“Does it hurt?” He whispered, avoiding her gaze for yet another breach of boundaries.

“You have seen me sick, Thorin. You have seen me cry and you have asked me about my deepest personal feelings. Yet now you feel as if you're doing something strange, as if you’re asking me something forbidden?” She said with genuine interest. For her, it felt normal, good even, to share moments as these. “It doesn’t hurt.” She said, as he didn’t respond.

Thorin splayed his hand over her stomach, his long and sturdy fingers covering almost all of it, and he softly started moving it around, intendly staring. He sighed deeply, and then finally looked at her face. “I’m scared, Emma.”

Thorin, son of Thrain son of Thror, could be angry, happy, annoyed, irritated and a whole other spectrum of emotions. But what she had never heard him admit to, was feeling afraid. It just didn’t happen, _ever_. So as he said it, she stared at him with wide eyes for a moment, untill she sat up again and put her hand on the side of his face.

“What are you afraid of?” She whispered.

A dry sob escaped him again and immediately she pushed herself further up and sat in front of him on her knees, her forehead pressed to his. “What are you afraid of?” She wispered again.

His fingers ran through her hair untill they rested at the nape of her neck, keeping her forehead on his. “What if something goes wrong? What if you can’t—and you—“ He just couldn’t finish his sentence, couldn’t speak _those_ words.

With just the tiniest pressure of her hand on his arm she coaxed him to lie down, curling up to his side herself. “It is no use worrying, kurdu. “


	14. Emma II

“I will be speaking to the healer’s about the birth, Thorin.”

The king of Erebor looked up at his father in law that had just spoken his words in such a decisive and definitive tone that arguing almost seemed pointless. It was rather refreshing. Lately no one seemed to contradict him, instead all plyantly bending to his will; even his wife. The will to fight nearly every one of his decisions seemed to have left her together with Melo.

So a couple of deep snickers escaped his chest before he managed to look serious again. “Have you asked Emma?”

Elrond could only barely resist crossing his arms over his chest before saying: “No. And I’m not going to either. Her time to become a mother is nearing and I must admit I’m worried. So in this matter, I am using my authority as a father.”

Thorin sobered at hearing the words he himself had thought so much, and he could only nod, staring at the wall behind Elrond without seeing it. Had he been paying more attention, he would have seen the small veins of chrystalite running through the almost greenish stone, painstakingly polished by the craftsmen that had done the redecorations of the royal chambers. He would have seen the geometrical patterns in the patterns that were done so finely that it almost looked as if they were the natural shape of the rock itself. But he saw none of it, he only felt a heavy weight on his shoulders.

Elrond seemed to have noticed the shift in Thorin’s mood, and he tried to lighten it by commenting on how much better than expected Emma seemed to be doing. Not that it was true, but he just wanted to get a reaction from Thorin, or make him feel better, his wasn’t sure.

Thorin hummed uncommitantly before glancing at Elrond. His wife did seem well, but he knew something fundamental had shifted within Emma. He couldn’t exactly put his finger on it, but it was like her personality had been watered down, or faded out partially. Last night was the first time in a very long while that she had actually told him she wanted something, and even that was done in a way that was unlike her. So Thorin just gave Elrond a curt nod, yet it did not convince his father in law.

Elrond ran a hand over his cheek and forehead, rubbing it as if he were tired. “How did she come to love him that much? I mean, you and I both have lost brothers yet grief hasn’t fallen on us so heavily.”

Thorin tilted his head back, leaning it on the back of the sofa and staring at the ceiling for a moment. A year and a half ago he would not even have thought of acting so familiar in front of the elf lord, but he had gotten more comfortable around him, especially now that the lord was on his side with regard to Emma.

“You have always viewed my and Melo’s treatment of Emma to be oppresive.” He started when he sat up straight again. “Don’t deny it, I know it’s true. But for a dwarven woman, she has got incredible freedoms. And it was Melo that started giving them to her, as his father practically charged Melo with raising her instead of doing it himself. He has set her free. He has made her his equal; his superior even, after he gave her the crown. And he has saved her; from her circumstances and from herself.”

Thorin paused for a moment, and Elrond gave him the space to consider his next words. But what came out was a derive scoff. “And so she had never seen what a useless little shit he grew into; she even loves the idea of Jalila having his child. A child he sired from beyond the grave without even being married! I wonder if he raped that poor handmaiden as well.” Thorin shook his head in disbelief, and it was then that he saw her from the corner of his eye.

Emma stood frozen in the entrance to Thorin’s study, unable to move. She had remained silent when she heard Thorin speak of all that Melo had done for her; liking how he sang his praises. But then he spoke the most vile words she had ever heard, and she felt like all air had left her lungs for a moment.

 

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“Is this a bad time, selde?”

Emma sat in front of the closed patiodoors, staring blankly to the snow-topped rockformations in front of Erebor. He did not know if her mind was actually blank, or if she was thinking deeply on something, or someone.

When she looked up at him, she gave him a small smile. “Not at all. Take a chair.”

Elrond took one the chairs from the little table and folded himself into it as he had sat it down next to her. In most areas of Erebor there were always some chairs and tables in human sizes available, but Emma had kept her chambers ‘dwarves only’. It did make sense though, he wouldn’t like to have to look at furniture that was too big for him either.

“Are you well?” He started, not wanting to get to the point too soon.

But his diversion did not seem to work, as Emma just hummed noncommitantly and went back to looking out the window. Appearantely he had asked the same question too many times in the past days. So he didn’t press her further and just hummed back.

“You know of the white council, don’t you, Emma?” He asked after a while without taking his eyes off the landscape in front of him. He now knew why she sat here so often; the way the snow looked and the rays of sun were reflected off of it seemed to be a bit hypnotical.

“High elves, wizards, saving Middle Earth.” Emma mumbled without inquiring further as to why he might be asking her such a thing.

“Yes. And since Sauron has revealed himself at Dol Guldur we have been trying to come up with possible ways to prevent his rise to power.” He answered while turning to her, a serious look on her face.

“And why is it you tell me this?” She asked, still not looking at him, but with a look on her face that betrayed a hint of interest. It was that he had been waiting for. That little sparkle in her eyes seemed to have gone with Melo, and he had been unable to coax it out of her; untill now.

“The other members will be arriving within a couple of days, and I believe help will be asked from you and Thorin.” He said, delibarately being vague in an attempt to get her out of her shell.

Yet it did not seem to have the desired result, as he saw a deep frown appearing on his daughter’s face, and she started to chew on her cheek. “That Galadriel of yours.” She burst out after a moment “should really learn to keep that prying witch’ nose out of my mind!”

Elrond had to do his best to keep in his laughter, and it was only his very long time in training how to keep a straight face that helped to do so. As usual she knew exactly what was going on, and as usual she was not afraid to air out her exact opinion of it. But instead of elaborating on her somewhat confounding exclamation, though one could guess what she was alluding to, she waved in the direction of the cord hanging from the wall.

“Ring for my handmaiden, would you?”

He obliged and then sat down again, asking her whom she wanted to write to after she had ordered Shana to bring her paper and a quill.

“Uncle Rykar.” She said, only elaborating after he had raised an eyebrow. “He’s not my uncle. Well, not really. He’s—was Melo’s uncle, and lord commander of the army. And it is in that function that I need him to come here.”

Elrond grinned. “You know what will be asked of you?”

As Shana came in with the requested paper and quill, on a little writing table, Emma just quirked her eyebrow at her father and quickly penned down her letter and then handed it to Shana. Her handmaiden seemed to have gotten the hang of being her assistant as well pretty quickly, appearantely being just as efficient as Jalila. Yet Elrond detected somewhat of an unease.


	15. Emma III

A soft knock on the door forced her to really open her eyes, instead of remaining in the blissfull slumber she had been lying in for a while. With a healthy dose of reluctance she sat up, expecting Shana or Jalila to just walk in after their knock. But it remained quiet and the door stayed shut, so she concluded that she must have imagined the knocking. Untill it came again just as she was about to lie back down.

“Are you awake, selde?” She heard Elrond say in a hushed voice.

She pulled the blanket up a little higher as she was only wearing a nightgown, and told her father to enter. When the door opened, her father was preceeded by a rolling tray filled with all kind of breakfast dishes, both warm and cold, sweet and savoury.

It was the smell of the bacon that did it. She probably could have move past the smell of the eggs and buttered toast, but the bacon was too much. So with her hand clutched to her mouth and in a pace that was much faster than one would expect from a five and a half month pregnant woman, she hurried to the bathroom. As she did not have anything to eat yet, it was more retching than anything else, but she hung over the toilet for near fifteen minutes while she heard Elrond pacing in front of the bathroomdoor, thankfully without attempting to say anything.

When she felt she could function normally again, she splashed some water in her face, brushed her teeth, combed her hair and put on a white cashmere tunic with white suede pants, adjusted to make room for her belly. Emma then took a deep breath, and walked back into the bedroom.

Immediately Elrond took her arm, led her to her chair, sat her down and knelt down next to her. “Are you alright? Should I get you something?” He asked in a concerned voice, a deep frown between his eyebrows.

Emma smiled and patted his arm in a gesture that was well past her years. “i’m fine. I just need to drink some tea and I’ll feel better.”

With a relieved sigh Elrond also sat down and poured her tea. When she took a sip, she looked at over the edge of her cup. He was sitting opposite to her with a smile that seemed to beam off of him, as if something special was going on.

When she had put her cup down, he still looked at her the same, and she tilted her head and frowned. It was like she was missing something. To her best knowledge, it was a very ordinary march 24th, and if there was something, surely Shana or Jalila would have said something.

“What?!” She asked after she ran out of options of what could be going on.

“Is no one else coming?” Elrond asked, still smiling.

Emma looked around, as if someone would be jumping out of a corner. “Why would anyone else come? I have no meetings scheduled.”

Now Elrond’s smile seemed to falter a bit, a small frown appearing on his forehead. “For you of course. I know I wasn’t here last year, but surely Thorin must have planned something?”

Emma just woke up, didn’t feel too well and was getting fed up with this air of mystery. So she lost her patience. A little bit. “Now tell me why anyone would come?!” She nearly yelled.

“Because of your nameday, of course.” Elrond said, his features softening.

“My—my nameday?” Emma said, her anger dissipating.

“It is not in your custom to celebrate?”

“It is. I just never—“ She had to pause for a moment, a wave of emotions flooding her. “I never knew when my birthday was.”

Vulnerability had never been Emma’s strongest point, especially to showing it to anyone, so she got up from the table and walked out of the room. She had never kown when her nameday was, as Melo’s father had forbidden anyone to speak of it. She never had the parties other children had; songs were never sung for her and cake never given. For a moment, Elrond didn’t act, surprised by her reaction, but then he followed her. He found her in the sitting room, on the sofa next to the hearthfire.

Silently he sat down next to her and he gave her a little wooden box, carved with a pattern that resembled the branches of a tree. “I have never been a good smith, so I must admit one of Thorin’s smiths carried out my design.

With a dumbfounded look, Emma accepted the box and carefully opened it. In it, nestled in fine layers of silk, lay a locket on a necklace. The white gold front was decorated with small diamonds. Two squares formed a star like shape that, through many branches, led to a six pointed star with rounded sides. She pushed the small lock on the side, and the picture on the inside was revealed.It was a painting of Melo, so painstakingly detailed that it was nearly life like.

It was in that moment that Elrond realised how much pain her brother’s death still caused Emma, as all pretense fell from her expression and there was nothing but vulnerability and pain left. A tear slid out of her eye, and before he even knew what he did, he held her close to his chest and he felt her hands clutching at him. They stayed like that for a long while, he rocked her slowly while stroking her hair and her back in a soothing rhytm.

After what must have been an hour or more, she slowly let go of him and wiped away her tears, producing a strained smile. “Thank you for your present, it is much appreciated.”

The tenseness was clearly audible in her voice, and he cupped jaw in one hand, stroking her cheek with his thumb. “I am sorry it caused you pain, selde.”

She looked down at her hands and the picture they still held. “They will all die, won’t they?” she whispered hoarsely.

“Who? Who will die, Emma?” he asked, concerned with her gloomy remark.

“Melo died, Eliana died, Thorin will die, everyone here.”

He wrapped his arm around her and sat back a bit so their heads were at an equal height. “Yes. Yes they will.” He took a deep breath in, and released the air again. “We have to say goodbye to some, and welcome others. That is life, selde.”

“Do you—do you mourn Eliana?” She whispered again.

Now it was his turn to fall silent for a while, but he knew he owed her some answers. “With all my heart. But I believe she would want me to be here instead of sitting next to her grave, to make sure you are alright. And I don’t think me moping around will improve your mood.”

“She did not much like me, I think. She told me—she told me she liked Melo better.”

Elrond shook his head. “When the two of you really met she—she was already different, and she remained like that untill the end. But before that, if you had met her then, you would have loved her, of that I am sure.”

“Will you—will you tell me about her?” It was a lot for Emma to ask such a thing, to show her curiosity about something she had fought for so long. But in the past months she had felt she missed a mother in her life more than ever. And upon reflecting on her memories, she found the ring to be a plausible explanation for her mother’s behavior. Not that it made it right, but it made it clear how the timid woman she saw at first turned into the hag she spent the day with. It would have been nice to have gotten to know the shy woman.

Elrond smiled tentatively and nodded. “I’ll get your tea and some toast, and then I will.”

 

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There was some time between councilmeetings around lunchtime, and he decided to eat in his chambers, perhaps together with Emma. It would be a rather pathetic attempt to end the icy silence she had showered him in the past couple of days, but he did not know what else to do. Gifts would surely be seen as an even more feeble try, so perhaps an opportunity to try and explain himself, as far as that was possible, would be better.

 

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“Can I ask your advice on something, ada?” Emma asked after they had spoken about Eliana for a long time.

He looked up at her from his own ponderings, having been thinking about his memories. “Certainly. But I must warn you that I may not tell you what you want to hear.”

She gave him a small smile. “I don’t know what I want to hear, so there isn’t much danger of offending me. You see, I have to do something that will gain me and mine what I need, but it will also hurt someone else deeply. And now I don’t know what to choose; myself or the other person.”

It was a most vague description, and he really couldn’t give a good advice. “I think the answer is both yes and no. But the no might also be a yes.” He answered enigmatically.

“That is no real answer!” She exclaimed with quirked eyebrows.

“Your question also wasn’t a real question.”

Emma pursed her lips. She did not know if she could tell him the details of her problem, if she could trust him to that level. She had always had Melo to confide in, and had never even thought of sharing her thoughts with others. Yet now she found herself without a confidant, without someone to encourage or discourage her plans, and it was her eternal doubt of herself that made her need someone to tell she she was right, or wrong, instead of being able to do it herself. “Do you promise not to tell anyone, no matter what I choose?”

Elrond nodded, hoping he wouldn’t regret this.

“I have Durer.” She said solemnly.

“You have—But then—aren’t you obligated to inform either Thorin or Dain?”

It costed Elrond some effort to gather this thoughts. In the past months, the hunt for Durer had been relentless; Thorin’s men scouting the Erebor grounds, Bard responsible for Dale and Emma’s men alledgedly searching everything beyond that. But now as it turned out, she had had everyone running around for nought.

“I needed to make a plan first.” His daughter said, her voice a bit apologetic.

“And now you have one?”

“I can kill him, slowly or swiftly, as would be my right. Or I can use him as a bargaining chip.” Emma replied, an undertone of caution audible for those that listened carefully. Elrond was a carefull listener.

“And what would you bargain him for?”

“Peace.victory and the continuance of Melo’s lineage.”

Elrond slightly tilted his head and raisen an eyebrow. The last part he could understand; Dain could put Jalila’s unborn child into Melo’s line. But peace and victory were unclear to him. He found himself more often than he liked on such unknown terrain when it came to Emma’s plans. He knew or could either guess the business of most, but his daughter was most secretive about hers, so any guessing would be based on simple luck.

“Jalila is pregnant with Melo’s child. If I don’t do something then the child will be born a bastard, doomed to be mocked. And I already have plans to attack Gundabad, I just need some more soldiers. And I can’t stand the thought of Jessa still being here, after what her husband did.”

Elrond started to smile, seeing the pieces of the puzzle falling together in a perfect drawing.

“And all those problems can be solved if I give Dain his son back in exchange for the dwarven council writing Melo’s son into his line, Dain giving me his Iron Wolves and Durer telling Jessa she needs to come live with him in the Iron Hills.” Emma felt a lot lighter after speaking of her plan outloud, instead of just mulling ot over in her head endlessly. Perhaps this had been a good idea, she thought. Perhaps her ada could be the one she could trust with matter such as these.

“What problem prevented you from having carried it out already?”

“Ferin.” Emma replied with a trembling voice. “If Jessa goes to the Iron Hills she will take Ferin with her, and I think it would break Thorin’s heart.”

Elrond slightly drew his head back. He wanted to say something, but he had no idea what words he could offer. It was truely a problem. If she didn’t carry out her plans, she would forever be tormented with the presence of Jessa. If she did, Thorin would be tormented with the absence of his child, and he himself knew the agony of that pain very well. But his chance to answer her diplomatically was abruptly taken.

“Yes, I think it would.” Said the familiar low, rumbling voice, and Emma’s eyes widened before she looked behind her to get a visual confirmation of Thorin’s presence.


	16. Emma IV

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, here we go...  
> I am a little scared of the reactions I might get to this chapter, but I decided not to change the storyline after I got several comments from people that have taken a great disliking to the Thorin in this series. A sudden change in him would be uncharacteristic, and as I have said before: I am not fan of Mary-Sues, whether they be male or female :)

“Would you excuse us for a moment, Elrond.” Thorin said, his voice trembling with emotion, though his expression gave nothing away about the nature of that emotion.

Elrond hesitantly got up and nodded uncertainly after looking at Emma. “I’ll wait in the antechamber.” He said, letting Thorin know he would be following their conversation.

When the door to the sitting room was closed, Thorin looked at his wife. “Ferin is mine and Jessa’s son, but he can not be blamed for all this. Do you wish him to be punished for the sins of his parents, as was done to you?” He said in a voice trembling with anger but somehow also empathic.

From when he was five years old, his father and grandfather had started preparing Thorin for the throne. He knew almost instinctively how to strategically respond to people. He tried not to do it in his private life, but sometimes it was just impossible not to let his complete upbringing influence him. So he knew not to command her, nor to beg her. His wife would not respond to either reaction well. Reason, or so he believed, was what was going to get him out of this potential disaster.

Emma got up and looked at him coldly. The way Thorin reacted, as if she were another one of his councilmembers that he could speak to as if she were a child, swayed her doubt towards executing her plan. And immediately after she had made that decision, she somehow took a distance from her husband. It wasn’t as difficult as she once would have believe. The months they had spent almost completely apart, as he did not share her bed anymore nor did he spend much time with her, had taken their toll. She felt as if for all intents and purposes, he had walked out of her life after her brother had died.

“I never said anything about your child, but it is typical that you immediately assume I did want to include him in the deal. Or that you immediately make yourself subservient to what you believe Jessa wants.”

She looked at him top to bottom and back when he did not respond, and then scoffed in derision. “So what did you want to do now? How do you want to stop this? Did you want to throw me out of Erebor? Have me banished?” She huffed. “Please do so, _your highness_. We can conveine your council right now and get it all done and I’ll be out of here before the day ends. Or do you wish to take your ire our on my face? Do you wish to see the imprints of your rings on my cheek like you have before?”

When he heard her speak about him hitting her, his anger subsided as if someone had thrown a bucket of water over that fire. He stood in the middle of their sitting room, his arms hanging limply next to his torso. He did not understand how she had become so hostile so quickly. Or why he was challanging him to hit her.“Is that what you want, azyungal? Should I hit you or send you away in disgrace?” Thorin said, his tone almost sad. He took a step closer to her, fighting the urge to reach out to her and stroke her cheek.

“Do as you like, _your highness_ , it won’t change anything about your current situation.” She said, defiance clear in her jutted lower jaw and tightly pressed together lips.

Thorin sighed and walked past her, slumping down on the seat previously taken by Elrond and rubbing his face. “Have you anger, have your revenge and have your coldness, Emma. If you desire it, we will have separate chambers permanently and I’ll knock on the door just like any other visitor after our child has been born. But do not go ahead with sending Ferin away. Once done, it cannot be undone and we would forever be broken.”

Perhaps it was the hormones, perhaps it was Thorin’s remark about knocking on the door or about them being broken, but whatever it was, Emma’s lower lip started to tremble and her eyes flooded with tears. A day ago he would have jumped up and carried her to her bed. He would have dried her tears and rubbed her back untill she felt right again. But the threat against Ferin had pulled a particular string in Thorin, one that made him more callous.

For a while she did nothing and just stood in the middle of the room, but then she slightly tilted her head at him and started to walk out, probably to the privacy of her bedroom. Thorin knew they were at a breaking point; come evening she would have collected herself enough to disregard his words and see her plans through.

“Is that what you want, Emma?” He said while getting up, and she halted her movements. He stood behind her and tentatively put his hand on the back of her neck, pushing her hair aside. It had grown quite a bit since the funeral, and it was almost back at its former length.

“Do you know how my pregnancy was supposed to go, Thorin? I was supposed to be able to relax, do nothing, have everything handed to me and have my husband dote on me. But do you know what I got? I got a dead brother, a nephew or niece that may come into the world as a bastard and a husband that rather spends time with his former whore and his cousin whoms son killed my brother!”

She turned around and looked straight into his eyes. “I do not care anymore of the consequences, I will have what I want.”

He wondered if it was too late, if he had waited too long with thrying to fix what seemed to be broken between them or in her, out of fear of upsetting her. It seemed so, and he closed his eyes for a moment in an effort to calm himself. “Do not take my son, Emma. There is a lot I can forgive, a lot that I have forgiven, but not that. Don’t make me choose.”

“A good husband would have sent them away a long time ago. But not you. And do you see now what has come of it?”

“He is dead, Emma!” Thorin bellowed when confronted with his shortcomings. “He is dead and he won’t come back, no matter what you do!” Seeing her startled, he took a steadying breath and continued in a normal tone. “I know you are in pain, Emma, and I feel for you. But hurting me or Dain or whomever it is you wish to see in pain won’t lessen your own pain. It will only hide it for a while. And the price is too high for just that moment of oblivion.”

Emma walked out of the door without looking at him. But instead of the expected antechamber, she found Elrond, Fili, Kili and Dwalin staring at her.

“We understood wrong, didn’t we?” Kili asked uncertain. “We understood wrong when we heard you say you are going to trade Dain’s son for some favors and the removal of Ferin from Erebor, right?”

Emma blew a short huff of breath out of her nose, just wanting to go back to her chambers to think through what she just did. If she was honest, she would have to admit that she acted a bit rash. But only because of Thorin’s attitude.

“Yes, you heard wrong. I never said anything about Ferin.” She answered, and opened her bedroomdoor.

Fili grabbed her arm, unwilling to end the conversation so soon, but in the momentum she was spun around by the sudden halt of her movements. With a ‘thud’ her back was pushed against the door and the air was briefly knocked out of her lungs. Before he realised what had happened, Elrond had grabbed Fili by the throat and forcefully janked him away from his daughter. But it wasn’t the rough treatment that startled Thorin’s sister-son, it was what had happened to Emma. The hand around his throat and later the furious look on Elrond’s face prevented him from making his apologies to Emma, to try and explain he really didn’t mean to hurt her, so he just quickly left the royal chambers.

The very loud argument following Fili’s actions did not only draw Thorin out of the sitting room, but also Dis and Tauriel from their apartments. As soon as they figuered out what was going on, Tauriel took a few steps and physically aligned herself with Emma and Elrond, while Dis, as expected, joined the rest of them in yelling. At first Emma did not really hear what they were saying, too wrapped up in trying to regain her breath. But when her heart rate had settled and she could breathe normally again, their words, and those of Elrond and Tauriel, registered. Selfishness, callousness, bitchiness, snake-like properties, nepotism; all accusations slung at her and Elrond. Kili had fallen silent when he gaped at his wife taking side opposite to him, but it was more than made up for by the rest of them. And then she saw it: Thorin standing in the doorway of the sitting room, his arms crossed in front of his chest and a hard expression on his face, just observing the whole scene.

She knew she shouldn’t have expected anything else after what she told him, but it still hurt, him not preventing her being hurt. For a fraction of a moment their eyes locked, and as all she saw was a cold hardness, she quietly slid into her room and closed the door behind her. The argueing kept going for a little while, but then everyone noticed she had left, and the noise died down to just bickering between Kili and Tauriel, accusing eachother of being terribly and utterly wrong.

Emma slid down against the door and sat on the cold, stone floor. She had no more tears left for this newest crisis, nor did she have the energy or clearness of mind to think about it. So she grabbed the doorknob and lifted herself with groan that lasted untill she lied down in her bed. This day was officially over. She brought her hand to the locket Elrond gifted her and drew her thumb back and forth over her untill the metal warmed up.


	17. Emma V

Breakfasts, lunches, dinners, clean clothes and stacks of papers where brought into her room, and dirty plates, cups, cutlery, laundry and letters taken out. But Emma herself did not come out and the doors remained closed for him as well as his family and friends.

The only ones being let in were Elrond, Elladan and Elrohir, and sounds of talking and laughter could sometimes be heard during those visits. But what he mostly heard were the muffled tones of conversations taking place in hushed voices, as if they were afraid to be overheard.

Thorin just did not understand. He had given his wife what he believed she wanted or needed since he knew she was pregnant, and after the passing of Melo he had tried to make her as comfortable as possible. And with regard to Durer, he had made a genuine effort to find him. Whatever family ties he might have with him, it was all erased by the fact that Durer killed a visiting royal with a much higher standing than him during his visit to Erebor. And what was worse about that, was the fact that it had upset his pregnant wife. So Thorin was very motivated to find and punish his cousin’s bastard son. He just couldn’t find him. In hindsight that was logical of course, as Emma had. But surely she must have seen the effort he had made?

But then suddenly Emma had turned completely against him; wanting to take his son from him, and the situation had spiraled completely out of control. He wasn’t sure if it had anything to do with pregnancy moods or something, a phenomenon he had regretfully experienced when Dis was pregnant, but he just didn’t get how they had gone from her coming to sleep with him one night and then a huge fight a little later.

And it wasn’t just about the two of them anymore. He knew Elrond had brought Elladan and Elrohir to Erebor to protect Emma, but from what exactly was unclear, though he feared it was either him or his family. Fili had told him what happened when he grabbed Emma’s arm, but he had also explained with great sincerity and regret that it was an accident. So after he had given his nephew a sound beating under the pretence of sparring in the practice ring, the matter was closed to his opinion, although no one had been able to speak to Emma about it or offer apologies as they were just turned away at the door.

And what was worse, and very humiliating, was the fact that he had seen Thranduil’s armies ‘practicing’ closer and closer to Erebor, using Dale’s land for their excersises. All a roose of course, but as they weren’t large enough in number to actually attack Erebor succesfully, the only reason he could think of for their close presence was that Elrond might want to take away his daughter with Thranduil’s aid.

Yet he refused to believe that Emma would leave. A silent war might be going on in their chambers, but his wife would not divorce nor steal his child from him. So he hadn’t posted any additional guards and he didn’t get any extra surveillance on his grounds against Thranduil.

But now things seemed to be getting even closer, as he was informed that king Bard would be visiting in the afternoon. He had absolutely no idea what else it could be about but Emma, Elrond and Thranduil’s troops. But yet, it seemed strange for Bard to get in the middle of it all. The man did not seem to be a gossiper, not did he seem like someone that would start row or worse over gossip.

So Thorin found himself waiting for one of Emma’s handmaidens to open the door to her bedroom and answer him with mumbled excuses en denials once again. Yet this time he would not hear them out and pretend to believe their hushed words spoken with downcast eyes. He would just walk in and send everyone out. He was king, after all.

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Elrond didn’t obey his polite request to be left alone with his wife, nor did his sons. It was only after an embarrasingly long silence in which no one moved that Emma nodded to her father as a sign she would speak with her husband that the elves left. To stand just outside the door with their ears to the wood no doubt. But he had nothing secret he wanted to discuss; nothing to be ashamed of.

Emma was sitting on the bed, surrounded by various pillows that, as far as he could see, were supporting her in the rather odd position she was sitting in; her back curved in a ‘C’ shape and her legs raised a bit by the pillows stacked under her feet.

“Are you well?” he asked after he had taken one of the chairs from the table and sat on it next to the bed.

“Are you here to ask me how I am?” Came Emma’s response, though she did not look at him but stared out of the window instead.

“I have tried that many times, but my presence did not seem wanted nor needed. So now I have resorted to using a political excuse in order to visit my wife and ask how she fares.” He said in an as chipper tone as possible given the circumstances, which only meant the frustration wasn’t dripping off of him.

“My welfare did not matter to you when I was pushed into a door, so I did not feel inclined to answer your questions regarding it after.”

“Fili is very—“ Thorin started, but he was interrupted by the impatient and sarcastic words from Emma. “Yes, I know Fili is very sorry, regrets what he did, didn’t mean to do it and that it was all an accident. He has yelled it through the door many times. Yet your regret about how the situation worked out was not so audible. Perhaps because you never spoken it.”

“I didn’t—“ Today didn’t seem to be Thorin’s day with regard to finishing his sentences as he was yet again interrupted. “I _know_ you didn’t cause it, but you could have some regret for it. Or do you only care how your child with _Jessa_ fares and not my unborn child?!”

Thorin had been staring at his hands from the first time Emma interrupted him, but as she spoke about their child, his head jerked up. “I can be accused of many things Emma, but not of not caring for either my children or for you! I have tried to make things better for you after your brother’s death, but for some reason you have chosen to turn against me. You’ve had me turned down everytime I came to your door, so what would you have had me do?”

Emma sighed deeply. “Nothing. There’s nothing more to do.”

It sounded so very final to Thorin, that he swallowed thickly. He did not know what to say, afraid of the reply he might get. So he slowly got up from his chair and sat next to her on the bed. When she didn’t shy away or straight out yelled at him to leave, he ran his hand through her hair and softly placed kiss on her temple. “Where have we gone wrong, Emma? And what can I do to make us better?” He said softly, his lips still lngering on the side of her head.

“We both married a memory, not realising that the person we loved no longer existed. That we changed and both carry our own problems.”

Thorin closed his eyes and pulled her closer with an arm around her shoulder. “You are the only one I ever saw myself marrying and growing old with, azyungal. Problems or not, changed or not, I still only see myself with you. And I know it isn’t easy right now, and that you think I had something to do with Melo’s passing or at least condone it, but I assure you I didn’t.”

He softly started stroking her cheek with his thumb and tried to look at her, even though she avoided his gaze. “And any and all problems you have, are mine as well. And I’ll carry them gladly for you. I just need you to stay.”

Emma pulled away from him and ended their tentative embrace.“I think that history teaches us I can’t really leave, can I? Or did you also want to tell my child that I’m dead while I’m waiting in Rivendel for it to be old enough for me to come find it?”

“Why, Emma? Why are you suddenly so—so—hostile?” he couldn’t think of a word that exactly he described her attitude, so he stammered a bit when he asked her. But it fitted his mood and his confusion; he just didn’t know anymore. And though he didn’t want to admit it, least of all to himself, he felt the unspoken threat of the presence of Elrond and his sons and Thranduil so near.

Emma swallowed thickly and he saw a lone tear slowly roll down over her cheekbone to her jawline. “You left.” She whispered, and he had to do his best to hear her.

When she saw him looking at her inquisitively, she repeated herself, though louder now. “You left. Again. You always leave me when I need you.”

He didn’t get it. He hadn’t gone anywhere; he had been here through her whole pregnancy. “Emma, I—“

“You left to make a plan to get your stupid mountain back when you could have come to me. We would have helped you. You left me after the battle to be with Jessa. And you left me all alone after my brother died. And the irony is that the one time I tried to leave, you got me back. And now I can’t leave anymore.”

Thorin closed his eyes and let the weight of her words sink in. It was too little, and too late, but he got it. Jealousy had nothing to do with this, it was all about disappointment. And he knew that emotion to be the hardest of all, because it killed that little fire that kept people going: hope. He knew it all too well.

“I need you to leave now.” His wife said, but the irony was lost on them both.

 

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She had been stuck ever since Thorin overheard her conversation with her ada. She just couldn’t make up her mind; about what to do with Durer, with Jessa and with Jalila’s child. And about what to do with herself.

Her ada had asked Elladan and Elrohir to come to make sure she was safe, and strangely enough their presence actually did make her feel more calm. Elrohir’s quips and Elladan’s bold words about which actions to take, and just their _brotherly_ presence. But bringing her brothers wasn’t the only thing he had done. He had also spoken with Thranduil, and the elven king had immediately come into action and brought a part of his troops as close as possible without starting a diplomatic incident. All so she had a choice. A choice to stay or disappear like a thief in the night under the protection of her family.

But she had lingered in inaction, which automatically meant she was staying.

And finally he had come, and she had not been able to remain composed, too frustrated by the aches that seemed to plague her non stop, her own indecisiveness and just the unfairness of it all. His unexpected _kindness_ and _warmth_ were only more salt in those wounds, making her decision even more difficult. Emma sighed. She would have to ask Rykar for his advice, as her ad and brothers had been unable to give a singular answer.

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Elladan looked at him taxating when he closed the doors to Emma’s bedchamber behind him. The heir to Rivendel squinted his eyes and tilted his head before scoffing mockingly. “If you hurt her, Thorin, we will come for you. And with we I don’t just mean our family. I mean our army, and Thranduil’s. And Emma’s. And this mountain that you gave up so much to get back? It will crumble around you untill there’s nothing left but a pile of rubble for you to be king of.”

In any other situation Thorin would have given the impudent ‘guest’ a clear and thorough piece of his mind, but talking to Emma had exhausted him completely. So he just roled his eyes before continueing to walk out without saying anything.

 


	18. Birth IV

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have added three chapters. Please start with chapter 17 if you haven't read it yet!

“Is this really what you want, love? I mean, they’re neighbours and all, but they’re so—different from us.” It was said in the tone of a father that would give his daughter anything her heart desired, but whom feared she would pay dearly for a decision made in a whim.

“Da….” She sighed, her unhappiness with his question clear from the weary tone she spoke in.

“If it is the riches you want, then perhaps one of the suitors from Gondor? The son of the steward has shown interest and he’s waiting for a answer….”

She scoffed derisively. “The man only thinks of himself and only loves his power. And it is not power or gold I look for in a husband. I want what you and mam had; a marriage, not a contract.”

His daughter replied firmly, letting him know that for once she thought of herself and her own desires. And she was right to do so, he thought. Ever since his wife died she had more than adequately taken care of his household. And more importantly so, she had done it with love. In his head he had of course always known she would one day leave his family to start her own, but his heart wasn’t ready for it. Not now, not ever. He wanted to keep her beside him for all his years to come.

It was that thought that brought him to do as his daughter asked and get on his horse. His daughter might have chosen for love, he chose for short distance.

 

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It had seemed like the place nor the time to ask Emma is might know why Bard would be visiting, so Thorin remained puzzled regarding the cause for his neighbour’s sudden insistance on a visit. And as that prevented him from being prepared, it raised his ire.

Fili saw his uncle’s annoyance, but for once he did not care to carefully tip-toe round his uncle’s sensibilities. His whole life he had made himself and his wished subservient to his uncle’s. But not this time, not with this. It would have been better to wait, Fili knew that. Wait untill Emma gave birth and would be acting somewhat normal again and she and uncle made up. But the visit from the steward of Gondor forced them to act faster, as the man was pushing Bard for an answer, and the king of Dale did not seem completely adverse to the idea of his daughter marrying a steward. Fili and Sigrid had spoken a lot about how to get Bard and Thorin together to approve the marriage and speak of the bride price, and in the end they had thought it would be easier to get Bard to Erebor than Thorin to Dale.

He turned his attention back to the negotiations, and saw Thorin frowning deeply.

“If I give you those lands, Bard, Erebor will not have any fertile lands and entrance and exit to our lands will always have to be through yours. You must understand that is not an option for us.”

Fili saw the determination on his uncle’s face, and he knew that family ties, sentimentality or any other emotion that one would not easily connect to Thorin but that he knew his uncle sometimes secretly had, would not save him. Bard was asking more than Thorin would give, and neither king would back down.

He started to sweat, feeling a hot bead dripping down his back. This was not about the price of a kilo of potatoes or the fees for transporting gold. This was about his life, his One. If this failed, it wouldn’t result in a lower profit margin or slightly more expensive dinners. It would result in him losing Sigrid. He knew there were other suitors, suitors that could easily offer fertile lands.

“Shall we pause for refreshments?” He cut in before Bard could reply to Thorin’s denial. “I’ll arrange it!” He jumped up and could only barely restrain himself from running out of the hall.

After he had closed the doors behind him, he yelled at a servant to bring the promissed refreshment and ran to the royal wing.

Arriving there, he slowed down. He needed to think about what to say, instead of acting so rashly. He wasn’t Kili after all. But then, she did help Kili, perhaps being rational and calm wouldn’t help his situation, perhaps in this case, emotion would.

He took a deep breath and knocked on her bedroomdoor. After he heard a muffled ‘enter’ he opened it and stepped inside.

“I need your help, Emma.” He said, his expression completely open, honest and vulnerable. He knew he had no right to ask her for anything, not after what he had done ot her. But he had to, there just wasn’t anything else he could do.

Elladan and Elrohir had jumped up from their chairs the moment he entered the room. Emma had appearantely been looking at maps she had hung on the wall, and now slowly turned to him, showing her brothers they did not have to intervene. She was wearing one of her elaborate dresses, though he wondered why, since she did not leave her bedroom anymore, and the fabric made a swishing sound as she moved over the laquered wooden floors.

“I know you have called me a nepotist, Fili, but that does not mean I will help you. You see, nepotism commonly refers to the helping of favoured relatives. And you are not that.”

He swallowed thickly. He had betted on Emma helping him instead of spending time trying to persuade his uncle. He would now see if he had put his money on the winning horse.

“Bard and Thorin can’t reach an agreement. And if they don’t, I can’t marry Sigrid.”

Emma had turned back to her maps, standing as well as she could on her toes to look at a particular spot a little more closer. “You and your family have judged me, loudly, before knowing exactly what was going on. And you never even came to check if I was alright after you slammed me into a door. All you did was yell some pathetic excuses.”

The sweat was retuning, now rolling over his chest. “Emma, I—“ he stammered, but he knew she was right. Although he realy didn’t mean to, he had caused her collision. And he hadn’t cared for her welfare as well as he should have, especially in her condition.

There was a tiny movement of her head, almost like a bobbing from left to right, something he had seen her do when she was in a winning position. "By the way, does your mother know about you marrying Sigrid? I can imagine she won’t be too happy about it, given the way she reacted to Tauriel.”

She was enjoying did, he just _knew_ it. She was utterly and thouroughly enjoying the situation and the position he was in. He decided she had every right to. He wasn’t so sure if her father and brothers did though, but they were smirking nonetheless. At her reaction or his position, he wasn’t sure of.

“No, she doesn’t know yet.” He admitted gloomily, not looking forward to his mother’s reaction to a second non-dwarven daughter in law.

“So, you wish to marry someone your mother doesn’t approve of and whoms brideprice you can’t afford.”

Fili stepped forward and put his hand on her shoulder. “I’m not in the mood, Fili. Tell me what you want from me or leave.”

“Land.” He immediately said, retracting his hand. “Bard wants fertile lands, claims he needs them to be able to feed Dale and have enough to sell to Erebor. And I think you have them but have no use for them.”

Emma scoffed. “Melo’s father was a rotten piece of work, usually too stupid or too drunk to put a coherent thought together, but he was right about one thing: most things can be replaced or multiplied, but there is only a certain amount of land in this world. There will never be more, so once given away, you won’t get another piece to replace it.”

There was silence for several moments, Emma not caring to say anything and Fili not knowing what. But then he stood next to her and carefully placed his hand on her upper arm. “I am not saying we were fair to you, or that you were fair to Thorin. I can’t judge it, and I don’t have time for it now. But you saved my life once, please don’t make me live it without Sigrid.”

Emma finally looked at him, his face completely open and vulnerable. It would be so easy to extract her revenge now, to make him feel as alone as she did. But she knew it wasn’t him that caused her feelings, he was merely a symptom of it.

“What will I get in return?” She asked, her head tilted a bit a her eyes squeezed.

He spread his arms. “Whatever you want.”

“I’ll come with you to talk to Bard. Bring that map.” She said pointing at one of the rolled up parchments littering the small table. “At some point in the future I am going to need a favour from you, and you will do what I ask, without question and without hesitation, no matter what I ask or what the consequences may be. And it will be a big favour, bigger than voting my way.”

Fili nodded and followed her to the hall, knowing a handshake was not necessary to make this a binding deal. He only wondered what she would ask of him.

 

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“Emma, always a pleasure.” Bard spoke friendly as he got up and made a small bow to her. Thorin’s frown only deepened as she took a seat next to him, aided by Fili.He didn’t get how it was possible that his wife suddenly left her room. And not even for him, but for negotions about the bride-price for a wife for his nephew.

It wasn’t clear whom he was more irritated with, but both of them found they did not care. Fili because he was more goal-oriented in this moment than he had ever been, and Emma because she just didn’t feel anything.

“So, the lands.” Bard started.

“Yes, the lands. I value you as a neighbour, and I would like for my nephew and your daughter to marry, but I can’t give them to you. It would make our position too dependant, and as relations may be well now, we don’t now what will happen five or six generations down the line.” Thorin answered flatly.

Again Fili cut in, this time with a scrape of his throat. “Perhaps you could tell us exactly what you demand from the lands you are looking for, Bard.” He said inquisitively.

Bard looked a bit bewildered for a moment but then started speaking of square meters, fertility, sun hours and so on and so on. Fili lost comprehension of exactly what was being said, and he hoped Emma did know what his, hopefully, future father in law was going on about.

It appeared that she had, because when Bard finished speaking, she got up and sat next to him, rolling out her map and putting teacups in the edges so it would remain flat. He started pointing at things, and within minutes she and Bard were talking and laughing as if they were at a party.

>”What have you done?”< Thorin mumbled at Fili with a tone that made it very clear that he knew exactly what Fili had done, but he wanted Fili to explain just to pester him.

>” _I_ got things done.” < Fili grunted back, and to his surprise Thorin actually looked satified. He leaned back in his chair a bit, his arms weren’t so tense anymore and it seemed as if there was a small twitch at the corner of his mouth.

Emma got up again, and the smile disappeared. She was pushing her hand on her lower back and it visibly costed her effort to rise from her sitting position. Her brow was furrowed and she was squeezing her eyes. But when she was standing, the signs of uncomfort were quickly replaced with a smile and she handed Fili the map with a circle around a large piece of lands. “If you are willing to act on good faith, have Balin draw up an official contract and you can choose the lands we discussed from the circled area on the map.” She said.

Fili would have expected her to leave as soon as she could, but she sat down again, her hands clutching the folds of her dress. Fili looked sideways to his uncle and Bard, whom had taken a seat closer to them, but they were in deep conversation. “Are you alright, Emma?” he asked softly.

>”You got what you wanted, Fili. No need to bother yourself with my welfare.<” She hissed.

He drew back, and before he could do anything she already left.

 

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She ached nearly everywhere and felt clammy from just the short walk from the meeting hall back to her chambers, so she just walked through to the bathroom and wriggled out of her dress. Once rid of the material that was sticking to her in such an offensive way, she carefully took the steps into the bath and settled in one of the corners where ergonomical platforms were made for comfortably lying down.

For a while the warm water around her soothed her aches and she fell into a slumber, forgetting about Thorin, about Gundabad, about Durer and just about everything that had been bothering her. It was blissfull as long as it lasted. But it turned out it didn’t last that long, for a half hour later the ache in her back returned. She tried lying and sitting in different positions for a while, but the pain always came back, a little stronger every time.

 

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A tentative agreement had been reached with Bard, though the man himself still seemed a bit surprised about it, and Thorin also had no idea how this had actually happened. This morning, it had seemed like every other day; he even thought things might be going beter as Emma hadn’t carried out any of her plans yet.

And then suddenly, out of the blue, Bard came to speak about Sigrid’s brideprice. Fili had spoken to him about the girl of course, he remembered that conversation vividly, but he had somehow missed all the signs of things moving along between his nephew and the princess of Dale.

He sighed deeply and shook his head at Bard’s demands for a bride price. _The land between Erebor and Dale for a slip of a girl that had been raised as a fisherman’s daughter._ Humans were odd in this way. Dwarves would normally get the bride price for the bride, so she had her own money and didn’t have to depend on her husband too much, _except for when your father was king of the Grey Hills_ , but humans kept the bride price for the father of the bride. As if they were selling their daughters.

And then his wife, his wife that somehow held all the strings with regard to his son, his wife that somehow had changed from an angry, hurt girl to a powerfull woman, had stepped in. He couldn’t understand why she had helped Fili after what had happened two weeks ago.

It was completely beyond him. It was possible she did it to get back at Dis or because she liked Sigrid, but he just wasn’t sure. And while surety was something he didn’t have, curiousity he did have. And there was only one with answers.

 

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His apartment seemed to be empty for a change; no elves hanging around glaring at him, no handmaidens walking in and out looking angrily at him. But also no Emma.

After knocking n the bedroomdoor twice without any result, he opened the door and stepped in. For a moment he didn’t recognize the room; where the decor had been the polished greenish walls this morning, it was now formed by an array of maps stuck to the beautifully decorated walls. The very _expensive_ beautifully decorated walls that would now have holes in them, he grumpily thought.

But still no Emma, so he looked in the nursery and her closet, but she wasn’t there either. What he did see, was that the nursery had been completed. The walls had, surprisingly, been painted white and decorated with stylized grey sparrows. Draperies were hanging from the center of the ceiling to the corners and soft sheep furs softened the floor, and the back wall was adorned with two tapestries showing the Durin sygil in whites and greys. He assumed not all the furniture was put in place yet, as here only seemed to be a built-in baby bath, and no crib or changing table yet. Thorin spent a moment imagining what his wife had thought up for the rest of the room, and the clear devotion she had applied to the room.

After that, there was only one option left, so he knocked on the bathroom door. When he heard nothing after knocking twice, he opened the door and looked inside.

 

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“Emma, are you alright?”

She was sitting hunched over, her hand clutching the edge of the bath and her forehead resting on her stretched out arm. He couldn’t be sure, but she seemed to be breathing fast and shallow and not feeling too well, so he walked over to her.

“I’m fine, Thorin. Please respect my privacy.”

“You spent a lot today to help Fili, I think I have a right to know why.” He said in an evenly irritable tone that she had used to him, thinking that if she reacted to him lke that, she was feeling fine.

Emma grabbed a towel and slowly rose from the water, immediately covering herself. “I don’t think you have that right.” She said, and then she remained quiet for a heartbeat, taking a big gulp of air. “I don’t think you have any fucking right.” The volume in which she spoke rose with every word, but she hunched further and further. “to meddle in my business! If I wish to gve something to your nephew, that is _my_ business, not yours!”

Her last words were yelled at him in such a loud volume, that he wondered if the people in Dale could have heard her. It was not very like her; she would get upset, but usually in a more cold way. Combined with her odd posture, he was almost sure something was wrong.

“O fuck, fuck, fuck! Bloody Mahal, this fucking hurts!” Thorin heard her whisper, and he found that his feet no longer did as he commanded them.


	19. Birth V

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have added three chapters. Please start with chapter 17 and 18 if you haven't read those yet!

“It is as we feared,the first one is breached.”

One of the senior healers was updating Oin, whom had been enjoying his nephews training and was therefore a little harder to find than usual. The lad was really showing potential, and Oin and Gloin had been standing next to the practice area looking more proud than a pair of peacocks in spring. Gimli was surely destined to be a great warrior.

When he had entered the royal bedroom, he had found three elves standing in front of the bedroomdoor, Thorin, Fili, Kili, Tauriel, Dis, Balin and Dwalin waiting in the antechamber, Fili whispering to a familiar looking human girl in the corner. As he continued his way to the bedroom without paying much attention to the people waiting, he found two handmaidens taking down what appeared to be giant maps and the queen nearly biting her pillow while sweat streamed down her face.

“The first one?” Oin was certain he had misheard again, as he increasingly did. He sighed; he was retiring after this.

“Yes. Her father has informed us that her highness is expecting twins.” The healer frowned sourly. “I have no idea why she hasn’t told us before.”

Oin needed to think for a moment, let this new knowledge sink in. Dwarves didn’t have twins. Ever. There hadn’t been a single dwarf in history that had twins. None. Well, as far as he knew. He should ask Balin about it someday, but for now it wouldn’t help him to be sure of this. The only thing he should be sure on was that he had never helped deliver twins and thus lacked knowledge.

“We’ll turn it.” He said pragmatically, hiding his confusion behind a serious expression.

His healers were helping Emma lie down on her back, a position that, judging by her soft moans and pained expression was not favoured by her. With a nod of his head he told one of them to explain to her what was going to happen, and sat down next to her.

“You should’ve told us, lass.” He said while he softly wiped the sweat of her forehead with a damp cloth. “But no use crying over spilled milk. We’ll try to turn the babe.”

And with those words he got to work. With every push and pull, Emma’s moans got louder. It got so bad that in her pain, she tried to push away his hands just to make it stop. He felt for her, but he also knew that if they attempted to let the baby by born breached, there was a large chance either she or her child would be in danger. So he waved at her handmaidens to come and give her their hands to squeeze.

Emma had already been tired from the pain. It was a lot worse than she had expected, and she felt completely alone in it. She had been told that Gendra was nowhere to be found, though she highly doubted that was the truth, and Shana and Jalila just seemed to feel really uncomfortable. And then Oin came, and though she thought that was impossible, he made it all a lot worse. She had no idea such intense pain existed, but she found out. It was like an iron vice clamping around her belly and lower back, sending flames of fire to her legs. The moans she had been trying to hold back or at least muffle in a pillow escaped her.

When she lost control over her hands and pushed Oin’s away, there was a short reprieve and she could catch her breath. But it didn’t last long, and Shana and Jalila’s hands did not offer much consolation. She felt like the pain was eating her whole, and in that moment, she lost the control she normally held so tight.

 

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Fight or not, threats or not, he still completely and undeniably loved his wife. And in this moment, he knew she was in pain, and there was nothing he could do. Such a loss of control was quite confronting for Thorin, and he didn’t handle it as well as he hoped he would. But he partly blamed the situation for that. Almost all the dwarves present were currently at odds with his wife, whom he was in some sort of silent war with, and her father and brothers were still standing next to the doors as if guarding them. He believed a bit of nailbiting was allowed, even for the king under the mountain.

“THORIN!”

When he heard her scream, his head jerked up. He couldn’t see anyone else around him; he only focussed on the door that was separating him from Emma. Her cry held such desperation in its tone, that he was absolutely certain it wasn’t merely an uncontrolled automatic response but his wife in need of his help.

In that moment he realised he had not told Fili everything about a One. He had forgotten to tell him about the agony of your One being in pain and being unable to do something about it. Doubt slowly started to invade his mind, like a termite eating its way through wood. He had waved tradition for Kili, he would probably do it for Fili, so why not for himself? His deep rooted sense of pride in their traditions and culture fought a battle with his own wishes and desires, and it tore him apart. He looked at Balin, whom was staring at his hands.

“Are you actually not going to do anything, Thorin?” It was said in a tone that somehow was agressive, angry and sad at the same time, and Thorin looked at his father in law. But Balin probably saw where this situation was heading, and he scaped his throat to say something.

It was that throaty sound that made something inside of him snap. He just couldn’t think clearly anymore. It was like he could only focus on one thing, like there wasn’t any room in his brain for anything else.

“OUT!” he bellowed, startling anyone present in the room. When they didn’t move fast enough for his taste, all staring at him dumbfounded, he just grabbed the nearest person, whom happened to be Kili, dragged him to the door and pushed him into the corridor. “OUT!” He bellowed again, unable the phrase his thoughts any more eloquent.

But well phrased or not, the message got through as everyone did as he said, murmering things under their breath. Everyone but Elrond. The elf lord had told his sons to leave, but from the look on his face it was clear he himself was most certainly not leaving. Instead, he casted a resentfull look at Thorin and quietly went into the bedroom.

Thorin took a few steps towards the door and already reached out to open it. But he he halted his movements, his hand hanging in mid-air, and stopped.He wasn’t supposed to be there. Elrond could have the excuse of being a healer, he did not have anything like that; even him being king did not really matter in this situation. Quite the opposite really, as king he needed to be an example. He needed to guard their traditions.

When he heard his wife moan again he let go of it all and went into the bedroom. This time he would not leave.

 

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If Oin had been causing her such pain in any other situation, she would have beheaded him herself and put his head on a pike. But the thought of having her children soon made it somehow possible to endure his torture, though the short moments he stopped were a very welcome reprieve. The downside of those moments were that they enabled her to reflect, in detail, on how much noise she had made. But she remembered Gendra’s words; shame had no place in a birthing chamber.

The first time the door opened it was Elrond, and after cooling her face with a cloth for a while he got up again and spoke in hushed whispers with the healers, glancing a her every once in a while. Normally it would have made her very uncomfortable and either cause her to leave or demand to know what they were speaking of. It seemed to be a day of exceptions however, as she found she could not care one bit, and that she was far too focussed on managing her pain to focuss on anything else.

So when the door opened for a second time a little later, she didn’t even look to see whom it was. She believed to have understood something like Oin saying he would try one last time, and that was all concentrate on. And when Jalila left her side, she didn’t look where she was going, only mindlessly staring at the canopy above her bed. She didn’t even look whom came to sit next to her, though the dipping of the matress should have given her some clue; not many people were bulky enough to dip her firm matress. But she did feel strong arms envelloping her.

“You can do this, azyungal. Just a little bit more and you’ll be done. It won’t be long now.” He whispered.

Emma didn’t feel the pain for a moment, a bit unsure of how she felt about Thorin being there. But then it came back and she grabbed the hand around her tightly and bit into the pillow to muffle her moan untill the contractions eased down again.

 

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“Alright your highess, I believe you are ready for baby number one to be born. You’re in luck, the easiest one will come first.” The healer said with a smile after he checked her up again after an hour.

“Lie on you back and bend your knees with your heels as much as possible to your bottom.” The healer said when he saw the change in her, the other one and Oin coming to sit next to her while Elrond stood behind them and whispered instructions. “When you feel another contraction coming, just push and do what feels natural.”

Emma gasped for air, but before she could even think about what was happening, she just had to follow her instinct and bear down in an attempt to get the child out. When looking back later, she did not remember this moment; her memory only seemed to offer the moment her first child was actually born and she heard his soft cries.

“Born with a helmet, that’s certainly lucky. Gimli had the same. Stonehelmet dwarves are certain to lead a prosperous life.” Oin said in a voice that betrayed the pride and affection he felt for his brother’s son.

Emma sat up a bit, peering to see her firstborn, but one of the healers took him away for a control. She wanted to say something about it, but then the pain returned and the only thing she could do was lie back down.

She felt Thorin mindlessly take her hand again, but when she looked up at him he was staring at the healers bewilderdly.Oin in his turn looked disapprovingly between Elrond and Emma. “I see you have not yet informed him?” he said snootily.

“Emma?” Thorin said questioningly, frowning in uncertainty.

But Emma was too busy to even pay attention to him, causing all the looks to be redirected to Elrond.

“Well” he started, looking everywhere but at Thorin. “it is not uncommon in my family; her brothers are also twins.”

Oin muttered something along the lines of ‘that being clear enough’, while Thorin could only stare. First open-mouthed at Elrond and then, having had the conscience of mind to close his mouth, at Emma. He was only pulled out of his shock when it was time for the seond baby to be born.

 

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The next five minutes were a blur for Emma, only remembering that she moaned even louder than when the first child was born, but then it was done and she heard the second child crying. Thorin wiped her head one more time and kissed her forehead. “It is done, you are done, azyungal.” He whispered soothingly.

“Your highness, why don’t you come here with your sons, and we will tend to her highness.”

Thorin’s face broke into a bigger smile than anyone had ever seen om him and he walked over to the healers that were taking care of his children. His children. For a long time he had thought he would never be blessed with an heir. When he was younger, he didn’t think of such things, and then the dragon took Erebor and all he had time for was caring for his people, semi-content with Fili and Kili as his heirs. And then Ferin was born illegitimate and would never be heir and things took longer than expected and he had almost resigned to the fact that he would never have legitimate children. But now here he was, having not one but two sons.

When he looked at them , he felt like he saw perfection itself. The firstborn had dark hair, already generously present on his head, the second born golden colored fine curls. Their skin a rosy color and the oldest has his sapphire eyes while the youngest had Emma’s emerald ones. He just kept staring, enchanted by the miracle they were.

 

“I am afraid we will need to stitch you up, your highness.” Oin said apologetically to Emma after the afterbirths were delivered and quickly gotten rid off.

Emma clenched her jaw, but she just nodded. Tears streamed over her cheeks while the healer did his work, letting out small sobs. When Thorin heard it, he looked up from his boys and his eyes widened. He immediately sat next to her again and held her hand, letting her clench his’ to distract her.

“What is wrong?” He asked the healer tending to his wife with a little insecurity in his voice.

Oin, not accustom to husbands in the deliveryroom, hesitated a bit.But before he could come up with something to say, the second healer cut in. “She has to be stitched up a bit, it is not unusual, your highness.”

Thorin almost started gagging the moment he heard the words ‘stitched up’, and he held Emma’s hand even thighter for comfort, though it was not quite clear whom was comforting whom at that point. But then the healer was done and they washed Emma, helped her in a clean gown, cleaned the sheets and helped her lie back in bed, covering her up with a fresh blanket. After that, Elrond brought the swaddled babies for Emma to hold. When he saw his daughter and her husband looking at their newborns, he quietly urged the other healers to leave the room with him, so Emma and Thorin could have a moment before everyone starts coming in to see the additions to the royal family.

“They are so perfect, azyungal. I don’t think I can ever express how thankfull I am.”

Emma blankly nodded, still staring at her two sons. “You will name the second born Mellin” She softly but decidedly said to Thorin. “The firstborn is yours to name as you please, but you will make an exception do what I ask.”.

“Thorin the third and—“ he paused for a bit, still a bit hesitant over the undwarven name. But then he caved. “Mellin. As you wish, azyungal.”

Emma buried her head in his shoulder and let out a small sob, out of thankfullness or relief, he did not know. Not everything was perfect and alright, but it was for now, for this moment.

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When Elrond and the healers walked out of the royal chambers, they encountered a rather large number of people loitering in the corridor, around the spot Kili had unceremoniously been dumped, looking at him expectantly.

“Everything went fine. Just give them a moment and you’ll be able to see for yourselves.”

“But..What…Elrond!” Several people yelled out in protest to the further delayment of news.

“I believe it is for the king himself to tell you the rest.” He said calmly said with a telling smile on his face.

 

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A soft knock on the door tore Emma and Thorin away from the bubble of their small family, and when they looked up, they saw everyone tip-toeing into the room, Dis leading them. But when she saw not one but two babies, she abrupty stopped, causing everyone behind her to bump into eachother.

“Nadad! Two!” She whispered, her eyes wide and her mouth falling open.

When everyone had gathered around the bed. Thorin said proudly: “Please meet my sons, Thorin the third, born with a stonehelmet, and Mellin.”

The women started sobbing in happiness, making all kind if high pitched noises, while the men had to do their best to keep a straight face. Thorin carefully took his oldest son and handed him to Dis and then took his youngest and handed him to Elrond. Everyone stared at the newborns, but their gazes were abruptly broken by Emma:

“That’s enough. Give them back now.” She said, a sharp edge to her voice.

Elrond looked at her to see if it was a joke, but her expression immediately told him it was not. So he carefully handed back Mellin, Dis doing the same with Thorin, though hesitantly. Emma let the boys lie on her legs while she adjusted their swaddles a bit and stroked their little heads. She seemed to be wrapped up in them, not paying attention to anyone else in the room.

**”Who are amad’s little treasures, hmmm? Who are amad’s heart? Yes, that’s right, you both are.”**

Mellin mewled softly, scrunching up his little face. Emma immediately sent everyone away, with Thorin looking a bit apologetic at their visitors, knowing they wanted to stay a little longer. When the room had cleared, Emma lied Mellin at her chest and pulled down her nightgown to feed him.

“Emma, we have wetnurses for that, remember?” Thorin reminded her carefully, thinking how she had insisted on hiring them.

“Let them do the changing and such.” She mumbled to him while she put Mellin to her nipple.


	20. Birth VI

As Emma was cooing at the boys, Thorin stared at her, not in the slightest distracted by the soft talking around them. She was lying on the sofa, leaning against the soft and comfortable side with her knees bent; a child lying on each of her legs. She only had attention for them, as she had had in the past six months.

Only once had that fixation been broken, when he had told her the day after she had given birth that Gendra had not been able to be present as the old woman had fallen ill. Against all advice, medical or otherwise, his wife had gotten out of bed, ordered her handmaidens to help her get dressed and had then slowly walked, under the protection of what seemed a batallion of soldiers, to the house where the woman lay ill. It still amazed him how she had done it; holding two children while walking to the depths of Erebor where the poor lived, with the soldiers as only concession to her state, as she did not want anyone seeing her or the boys. Arriving at the meagre dwelling Gendra and her grandchild lived, she had walked in after the shy but sweet child had opened the door, stating that her grandmother couldn’t see anyone as she was sick.

Looking back, he was glad Emma had been so decisive, as Gendra had passed into the care of Mahal not long after they had left. What it was exactly that his wife and Gendra had spoken about, he did not know, but he knew she had promissed Gendra to take care of the child to the best of her abilities.

And so he had found himself getting yet another building crew into the royal hall and fixing up the two apartments next to theirs, which had belonged to his father and grandfather. He had not wanted to take them himself, too weary of the memories those placed held, and the ghosts of sickness and madness lingering there. But now they would be fixed up and redecorated, the one next to theirs, formerly his father'’, used for creating a larger living space for them and the boys and the one furthest away, forerly Thror’s, for Gendra’s grandchild, Sima.

He hadn’t seen the girl very often since she moved in; she was mostly occupied by going to school and being entertained by two governesses that Emma had appointed. For the life of him he could not understand why she needed not one, but two governesses for a child of humble beginnings. But it was what Emma wanted, so she got it.

A chrystal clear laugh brought him back to the present, and he saw Thorin drooling all over his hand as he brought the little fist to his mouth and suck on it. The boys had just eaten, so he figuered it was some sort of automatism present in all children, like Fili and Kili had done when they were little.

When he looked to his side, he saw Dis looking longingly at the babies. He knew how fond his sister was of children of all ages, but babies especially. However, Emma was surprisingly reluctant to let other people hold her children. Himself, Elrond and his sons and Emma’s handmaidens where the only ones that got to touch the boys on a regular basis, and he believed Tauriel had once been permitted to sit next to Thorin on the bed when Emma was changing Mellin’s diaper. But for the rest, everyone was refused when they asked to hold one of the children. No explanation, no excuses, just a flat out denial.

Mellin yawned, the cutest little baby yawn, and immediately Emma told everyone that she needed to take the children to bed and that their visit was over. She wasn’t exactly rude, just very matter-of-factly, leaving no room for discussion. Earlier occasions had shown his guests that there was no use in trying to linger as soon as Emma went into the bedroom, so they meekly did as she said, and he noticed some not so subtle reproachfull glances being thrown in his direction. He just looked the other way.

Yet this time was different, as Balin didn’t leave, but stayed behind when everyone else left. His chief advisor sat back down and looked at him for a moment, untill Thorin quietly raised an eyebrow. That single movement was enough to make his question clear, and Balin started hesitantly:

“I do not want to presume to tell you how to run your household or treat your wife.”

Thorin frowned, wondering where this was going. Balin, noticing the frown, waited a bit, fiddling with his finger in his lap.

“Emma is---she seems very happy with your children.”

“She is.” He stated, getting more confused of the goal of this conversation, his frown deepening.

“She had never had the deep fondness of gold and treasures that is present in so many dwarves.”

Balin kept making single statements, as if there was no specific goal in his mind, only vocalising observations. But Thorin knew better. He knew there was a lot more to come, as there always was with the oldest of the sons of Fundin. So he leaned back in his seat and placed his hands on the arms of the chair.

“I believed her heritage caused her to be impervious to greed and obsession, believing it would be a good counterbalance for your – eeeh--- proclivities.” Balin sighed deeply, as though he feared what he was going to say next. “But I was wrong.”

Thorin squinted his eyes. He did not think he had seen Emma leave their chambers except for going to see Gendra, and the thought of her diving into the hoard of gold lying beneath the mountain was more than preposterous. Yet Balin wasn’t someone that would say such thing without any factual grounds, nor would he try to incriminate Emma without a very good reason. So he just kept on listening, postponing the very clear reaction he had to his advisors forward commentaries for a bit.

“She does have the greed of a dwarf, just not for gold. I have seen it clearly Thorin, she has it for your children. She does everything for them by herself, even though the royal accounts show that a near army of nurses has been hired by you solely for the care of your heirs, and she refuses to let anyone else hold Thorin and Mellin. Tell me honestly, how often have you been permitted to take them in your arms?”

Thorin clenched his jaw. Comparing the vile things that had happened to him while under the spell of the gold to the pure and clean love his wife held for their children was an abomination, an outrage, and he wouldn’t stand for it. “I think you should leave, Balin.” He said through gritted teeth, his upper lip trembling upwards in anger.

But the grey haired dwarf did no such thing. Instead, he looked at his king and friend, and wondered how he could have initiated this conservation differently, as he had not yet brought his main goal up.

“As I said, I do not mean to come between your wife and your children. But it is something we need to keep in mind, especially regarding the plans she has made you aware of six months ago.”

Had it been six months since their terrible row? It seemed like and eternity to Thorin, and he did not wish to be reminded of the dark clouds that still hung over his head; he wished to remain in this blissfull bubble and look the other way when shadows were cast.

Balin kept on talking, speaking of contracts and agreements, of rights and duties, but Thorin only listened to half of it, forming his own ideas.

 

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When he walked into the bedroom, he found Thorin and Mellin peacefully sleeping on his side of the large bed, a habit Emma had picked up on the first night after they had been born. After every noise, no matter how small or far away, she had gotten up to check on them, feeling completely restless. So the next day, special pillows had been placed along the edges of the bed which prevented he babies rolling over and falling off, and Emma got a single blanket so she wouldn’t accidently suffocate her children with it when she turned at at night. Finding his little family sleeping all together had become one of the most enjoyable parts of his days, so Thorin didn’t mind sleeping in the make shift bedroom in his study a little longer, especially because it gave his wife the peace of mind to sleep better.

But now she was still awake, staring mesmerized at her sleeping sons. When he quietly opend the door, she waved her hand at him in a gesture that he was sure meant he had to be more quiet so he wouldn’t wake up his sons, but didn’t look at him. He shuffled to the bed, and sat down on the edge, leaning backwards on his elbows.

The wedding is in three days.” He whispered. "Are you looking forward to it?

Emma just smiled faintly and nodded, turning her attention back to the tiny dwarves sleeping next to them. He felt bad having to distract her from what she wanted, but he knew this conversation could not be postponed for much longer; it needed to be had.

“I wish to know what and when you are planning to do with Ferin, so we can avoid any fighting or animosity at the party. It would not reflect well on Erebor to hang out our dirty laundry in front of rulers and dignitaries.”

“I already told you.” Emma said with a slight edge of irritation, but without looking at him.

“You see, I have a counterproposal. One that will still give you everything you want, but will let me keep Ferin.” He continued, trying to ignore the dissuasive signs his wife was sending him.

That did make her look at him, and he continued. “I will supply you with the men you need to take back Gundabad, and I will make sure Dain writes Jalila’s child into Melo’s line.”

“And?” Emma asked, not completely hostile but also not very impressed.

“I will send Jessa to the Iron Hills to stay with Dain, but I will keep Ferin here.”

Thorin looked at his wife with a mixture of trepidation and hope. He had doubted quite a while about this decision. It was cruel to take Jessa’s child away from her, and he didn’t exactly know how it would affect Ferin. But he wanted to keep Emma and he wanted to keep Ferin, so there was no other solution.However, this would all be for nothing if she saw Ferin as a threat to her own sons, but it might work if the other parts of the deal were worth something to her.

Emma kept him waiting, thinking over the different aspects of his proposal, and then tilted her head and frowned. “Why would Dain do that for you if he knows I have his son?”

He had already thought of this, and he had decided that for once he would not use but abuse the power he held as ruler of Erebor. And he would do it gladly for the future of his family.

“I have sent for everyone that heard you speak about having Durer—“ he started, but he was interrupted by an angry hiss. “Do not speak his name!” Emma said with fiery eyes and a near feral look on her face.

He sat up and raised his hands, bent on placating her. “His name won’t be spoken ever again. I have sent for everyone that heard you speak of having him, and they will swear to secrecy.”

As soon as Emma’s anger had risen, it left again, and after a while she nodded. “I’ll think about it.”


	21. Fear I

Elrohir sat back a little more confortable on the sofa and looked at his little sister. Thorin and Mellin were sleeping soundly in their room after having eaten, something he was glad Emma did in private as the thought of seeing his sister topless made him a bit uncomfortable. But even though she wasn’t distracted by her children, it was appearant her thoughts were miles away. However, he didn’t want to push the subject before he felt ready by herself. So he just told of her the little things that were happening outside of her chambers, of the weather getting better and the first, pale blue, flowers appearing from the cold ground.

She made the appropriate sounds at the appropriate times, but he knew her mind was miles away. So with a small smirk he said: “Ada is starting an experiment in which he will take a couple of orcs into our household to see if they will change for the better when surrounded by decent people. What do you think?”

“Great idea” Emma murmured, with her gaze at a non descript spot on the wall.

Elrohir got up and with three large strides he was standing next to the sofa, looking down on her before taking a seat. But Emma only noticed the change in placing when her brother took her hand and softly pulled at it to attract her attention and get her to sit closer to him.

“You are acting differently, muintelig. What is the matter?”

Emma frowned at it him for a split second but then straightened her face again and lightly shrugged. “I am tired, that’s all.”

To her surprise, Elrohir’s merry laugh filled the royal chambers after that and she looked at him with her mouth opened a bit in astonishment. When his laughter died down, Elrohir shook his head and looked at her fondly.

When she tilted her head a bit in confusion, he sobered and held her hand more tightly. “I spoke a lot with your brother when he was in Rivendel, you know.”

Elrohir saw Emma clenching her jaw, still having difficulty speaking about Melo. For a second he wondered if it was the wisest path to continue, but he needed to nonetheless. His mind wandered back to the afternoon on one of Rivendel’s vista, and for a monent he found himself back there, sitting next to Melo, tilting back their chairs with their feet lying on the ramparts and staring at the bright stars while the warm air gave them the feeling of having blankets wrapped around them. It was the only time, to his knowledge, that Melo had ever divulged something about the personality, the working, of his sister.

_“My sister fears very little.” Melo suddenly said. “Some would say that is a good thing, as there is little that will deter her. But in reality it is a very dangerous thing, for most of us have learned how to handle fear, how to act when we are afraid and how to keep thinking sanely when we’re frightened, but she has not. It is completely unpredictable how she will act in a situation that scares her.She will become indecisive, and ultimately doubt everything she does.”_

_He had frowned at Melo suddenly being so forthcoming about Emma; it had been a long time he had spoken about his sister. Whether it was because of shame or a sense of loss, he did not know._

 

WIth a small, elegant shrug of his shoulders, a gesture Emma had seen Elladan make once before, he shook off his memories and looked at his sister once more. “Are you going to tell me what’s the matter, or should I pull it out of you?”

 

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“Have you arranged everything, Dis?”

The king’s sister looked up from her embroidery as her brother walked into her chambers without knocking and spoke to her.

“Arranged what, Thorin?” She replied coolly, knowing he would not be pleased with the truth.

Thorin grunted impatiently and clenched his jaw. “I guess that tells me enough, _sister_.” He said in a low, menacing tone. “I think you have been without a male relative for too long, as you seem to be unable to do even the smallest thing I ask you.”

“I---“ Dis stammered, knowing where this was probably leading to.

“NO!” her brother roared. “You know organizing a day for the new mother is your responsability as oldest woman in this family! You already shirked your way out of organizing it for Tauriel, making _my_ wife do it, and now I expicitely asked you to do just this! And what do you do? You just ignore my requests and I have to find out the day before!”

Being Thorin’s sister, Dis possesed an equally empressive temper, and when her brother started yelling at her, she didn’t think but just started yelling back.

“Being without a male relative?!  You pompous ass! I have raised two sons, in case you had forgotten! Sons you have decided to give unworthy wives, so the blood of their children will be as muddled as that of your precious wife! I have spent the biggest part of my life doing everything a husband should have done! After Nehili passed, I did what he would have done, so don’t tell me I have been without a male relative, as I am as worthy as any man!”

As his sister stood in front of him, screaming and pushing her finger into his chest to mark her words, he had to hold himself back from just slapping her across the cheek to get his message across. His upper lip trembled in anger, and he tried to remember how his sister had been before circumstances had wreaked havoc upon her life.

 

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“I am scared all the time. Scared they will try to take them away from me. Steal them, use them as leverage, or simply as revenge.”

He drew his head back, startled by the words she just spoke. “Who?” he asked in a hoarse voice.

Gone was the always jolly elf that never seemed to take anything too seriously; replaced by someone that saw his family being threatened. “Who?” he repeated after having cleared his throat.

“Someone. Anyone. Depending on what decisions I make.”

Elrohir put one of her free hanging locks behind her ear in an almost intimate gestures and pulled her closer to him, his arm around her shoulder. “Then tell me of your choices, and I shall endeavor to advice you as well as Melo did.”

A small, victorious smile ghosted around his lips as he saw Emma chewing her cheek. From her doubt, he already knew she would give in.

“Thorin proposed that he send Jessa to the Iron Hills, but keep Ferin here. But if I do that, Dis will take her revenge for Jessa. Yet, if  don’t do it, Thorin will find a way to get rid of me, and take my children. The only rational solution would be to let both Jessa and Ferin stay, but I find that I can’t. I just can’t bear her presence.”

Elrohir hummed in thught, and Emma looked up to him uncertainly. “I think you don’t give your husband enough credit, sister. I believe he has shown himself to be a worthy husband over the past months, or has something been happening behind closed door that I should know of?”

“No-oo…” Emma said, her doubt clearly audible.

“So then why would he send you away simple for refusing his proposals? I think it happens to him on a regular basis, as it does to any king.”

Emma sighed. “I need to think about it some more.”

Anything else you worry about?”

Elrohir’s crooked grin, somewhat similar to the way Kili would smile if he was up to some sort of mischief, actually made her chuckle, and she softly squeezed his hand. “I have been able to evade the white council for quite a while now, but I fear that will come to an end, as they are all invited to the wedding.”

Elrohir chuckled. “Well, you can count on Saruman not coming, as he loathes these events. Radagast will most likely also not come, he never does. Galadriel can perhaps be distracted by Thorin and Mellin, ada can be persuaded if you ask him nicely enough. Glorfindel has a preference for dwarvish mead, so that will keep him busy. That leaves Gandalf and Cirdan. I don’t know if the shipwright will come, you never know with that one. And Gandalf, perhaps we can request a fireworks show?” That last bit was said in jest, but Emma was almost desperate enough to try.

“Who are Glorfindel and Cirdan?” She asked.

“Cirdan, that’s easy. He sails the ship to the undying lands and once held one of rings of power. But he gave it to Gandalf, though still keeping his seat on the white council. And Glorfindel, well, that’s quite a story. One you should ask him yourself, as he tells it quite entertaining. I will keep to saying he is really old and really wise, but doesn’t seem to be either of that. Gave me my first bottle of ale when I was fifty and then laughed wholeheartedly at my drunken antics. Luckily he is also kind, so he brought me some herbs to relieve my headache and nausea in the morning.”

“So Galadriel, Gandalf, ada and Glorfindel at least?”

“Yup.”

Emma sighed. “I don’t think I can avoid them any longer.”

“Nope.” Elrohir said, making the ‘p’ pop. “But meeting with them doesn’t mean you have to do as they ask. And if you’re not certain you can deny them, then just bring someone with you.”

“Will—will you come with me?” Emma softly asked after thinking about his advice, her face betraying she was expecting a rejection.

Elrohir arched a brow. “Me? Are you sure you don’t want someone who is taken a bit more serious by others? Elladan, Thorin, the court jester?”

Emma huffed at his humor at his own expence.  “I think those councilmembers are serious enough by themselves as it is, lets not add to that. Besides, Melo also always used to make interesting comments, it will be a test if you’re up for the job.”

Elrohir smirked. “ Yes.” He mused “I have heard of that. Didn’t he once propose to suffocate Galadriel with her own pillow?”

Emma burst out into laughter thinking back on how Melo’s comment had made her feel a lot lighter in that tense situation, despite the sharp sting that thinking back on her brother gave her. “He did. He sometimes had this dry, sarcistically funny humor.”

Elrohir saw the change in Emma’s mood, got up and offered her his hand. “Come, we’ll have some dinner and talk to ada tomorrow.”

“I can’t. Tomorrow is my amad day.”

“Your what?!”

Emma chuckled. “We call it that, but it is a day, six months after the birth of a child, that the mother gets to relax and have other people take care of her.”

“And what are you going to do then?” Elrohir asked, still not fully grasping the concept.

She shrugged. “Dis organized it, being the oldest woman in the family, so I’ll probably just have a massage and something nice to eat.” With a face that clearly showed her thoughts, she added: “Or something Dis believes to be nice.”

“So like ball day?” Elrohir guessed.

“Something like that, just without the presents and without other women there.”


	22. Fear II

As he walked through his chambers, his gaze lingered on the door to the former dining room for a moment. It had been the place where he some really great moments with Emma, where he had eaten with his family without the usual strain of court life; but now the doors were locked. And they would remain that way for anyone but his wife. It had become something like her private temple, only she did not worship Mahal or any other deity, she worshipped the memory of her brother. Paintings, letters and trinkets now filled the room that had previously been filled with food, laughter and warmth.

Shaking off the memory of that fatefull evening, he walked over to the dressmakers in de antechamber and saw to his satisfaction that the fabrics that were ordered from RIvendell and Gondor had arrived in time. He had described them to Elrond as ‘those flowy, lacy things’, and appearantely those words had sufficed, as both were available. With an appreciative grunt he let the seemstresses and designers know he was content, and then walked on to the shoemakers in the sittingroom. Normally he would only hire dwarven craftsmen, but it was known far and wide that Emma only went to a specific human shoemaker in Dale, so he believed he could make the exception without being questioned by the whole of the mountain and its inhabitants. And the man had delivered. What used to be the place where he slouched down on the sofa and put his feet on the table, had now become a private shoestore that offered every color, model and decoration his wife might possibly want. Menkind always seemed to need more confirmation, so he nodded with a smile before he went to his main destination: the jewelsmiths.

He had been working on his project with his smiths for months, and although he had already seen the first result, his breathing stopped for a moment when he saw the piece displayed on a mannequin. It was only the concept version of course, as the real piece was too expensive to make without Emma saying she wanted it, even for Thorin, but he saw how his present to her would look. He was about to say something and then instruct the masseuses a last time, when he suddenly heard consternation coming from the bedroom.

When he walked over there to see what was going on, Emma came running out of the bedroom in her nightgown, for some reason holding the butterknife that had been put on the small table together with the rest of the breakfast tablewear.

“Guards!” She shouted, looking around wildly. “Du bekar!”

Immediately he pulled his sword from its sheet hanging on his left hip and with a few large strides he stood before Emma, his left arm stretched out in front of her to protect her while he held his sword with his right. Yet the only only thing he could see was the craftsmen peering at them with a mixture or anxiousness and curiosity, and what seemed to be all the guards in Erebor running into the room with their weapons drawn.

“The princes have been taken” His wife yelled at them, still dressed completely unappropriately and waving the wholly useless, blunt, tiny knife. “Find them!”

With a large sigh of relief all the adrenaline left his body, and he halted the guards’ movements with a short command. Sending them away without taking any more notice of them. “Azyungal.” He murmered while he put his sword away and looked at his wife. “They are with Shana, Jalila and little Melo and their nurses, so you can enjoy your day.”

Within a spilt second he saw his wife go from agitated and ready to fight, to nearly falling apart. Thorin picked her up and carried her to the bedroom, barking at the craftsmen to continue with what they were doing. Closing the massive wooden door with a kick from his heavy boots, he put Emma down on the bed where she just burst into sobs.

The first minute her words were completely unintelligible, and he wondered if she was actually speaking any known language. But after a while he could make out that she was blaming herself for being a bad mother and letting people steal her children. He didn’t completely get the hows and the whys, but he figuered she would calm down eventually. To speed that up, he softly stroked her hair and whispered soothing nothings in her ear.

Finally, she took a deep breath and exhaled shakily. “My apologies, I shoud not---“

Thorin interrupted her with a soft shush. “You needed your sleep, geyhith, and they were being uncharacteristacally quiet. In another situation, they would have been spotted by me, by guards, or by Stone and Mel themselves.”

He had gone to naming his oldest Stone, as it somehow felt odd to call him by the name he also wore, and calling his youngest an abbreviation of his name followed naturally.

“But—“ She protested, but yet again he cut her short. “No buts. No harm will come to them. Not from outside and not from those around them, so I swear.”

Emma seemed to calm down further after that, and he slowly got up and offered her his arm. Thorin led her to the bathroom. There, he carefully slid the band of her nightgown off her shoulders to take her dress off. But Emma quicly quickly crossed her arms over her chest, holding the dress up while she avoided his gaze.

In the past months, Thorin had sometimes come to the bedroom to sleep next to her, but he had never made any move indicating that he had wanted to do something more, despite the clear evidence that at least his body wanted to, and she had never given him any indication that she was willing. Somehow she just hadn’t felt ready for it yet mentally. The intimacy of it, and the vulnerability she would show him just hadn’t felt right yet. And her body had changed after her pregnancy, and, to her opinion, not for the better. She had studied herself in the mirror, and had tried to remain positive, but her slightly sagging breasts and wrinkles on her belly almost made her depressed.

So when Thorin wanted to take her dress off to help her take a bath, she could do nothing else but cover herself. She knew he only meant to be helpfull, but she felt she could not stand to see the disappointment over her looks on his face, and she avoided the look of hurt that flashed over his face before he managed to smile at her.

“Relax in the bath, azyungal. The masseuses will come after.”

“Thorin, I---“ she started, But he left the bathroom with a smile she knew was meant to comfort her, but didn’t quite reach his eyes.

She stood in the middle of the marble oasis for a while, for some reason still holding on to her dress, before she let go of it and stepped into the bath, trying to chace away her worries for just an hour.

 

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Three hours later Emma emerged from the bedroom, looking completely refreshed and relaxed in  suede breeches and a simple black top, her hair tied into a bun on top of her head. She had expected Thorin and perhaps her handmaidens in the antechamber, and her eyes widened as she saw that her chambers had been turned into a large, exclusive and luxurious market all for her. When she had stormed out of her bedroom earlier that morning, she had been so distressed that she completely failed to notice the rather remarkable change in her surroundings.

Not now however, and Thorin smiled fondly as she looked at all that was on display for her. She turned to him, smiling in a way that remembered him of when she was younger, before she had come to Erebor. “For me?” she asked, and she smiled even brighter as he nodded.

“For tomorrow, or other occasions, as you like.”

One of the female servants stepped forward and got the queen’s attention with a small cough. “Your highness, we have everything set up so you can choose your new wardrobe at your leisure. In your office you will find the undergarment department. The dressmakers are her in the antechamber, your favorte shoemaker you will find in the sittingroom and the jeweler’s are waiting for you in his highness’ office. If you would follow me?”

Emma was willingly led to her office where she was put on a peddistole and the measuring began. She felt embarrased again, someone else seeing her naked, but the older woman that made all of her underwear just smiled reassuringly. “You’re lucky, your highness, if you don’t mind me saying so. I have seen many other women lose their shape completely after just one child. But you have barely changed after two.”

Emma sighed deeply. “Things seemed to have gone—uhm—down.”

The woman chuckled. “That’s what we are for, to help them up again. And don’t worry, husbands rarely notice. Now, how about this?”

She showed Emma several pictures of corsets, bras, things that seemed to be only half a bra and scraps of lace that were supposed to look like a bra, all with matching, very small, panties. Emma said yes to everything, well, except to the things that were supposed to look like a bra, and then the fabric samples were brought in. One after another slid through her hands, and in the end, she had more pairs of underwear than there were to be found in any regular shop, in more colors that the rainbow. A great start so far.

Stepping into the antechamber, she found Thorin looking at some sketches with one of the designers whom had worked for her previously and whom had made Tauriel’s wedding dress, and he looked up looking a bit guilty when he noticed she was looking at them, not quite confortable being caught in such activities. He quickly got up and ushered her to his seat. And then it began. His wife and the dressmaker almost seem to speak in a foreign language; the names of the different colors almost the only words he could understand. Although, he never heard of a color named ‘seagreen’. Wasn’t the sea supposed to be blue?

After what seemed to be forever, Emma and the designer were satisfied with the results of their discussion and Thorin concluded that her wardorbe had been chosen.  “Now, for the wedding tomorrow I have created this for you.” The designer said, and with a flic of his hand he ordered one of his assistants to bring the dress in. It was rolled in on a mannequin, and Thorin immediately knew his wife would like it.

It was made of a matted, Durin blue silk, and the structured, stiff bodess was shaped in such a way that it flared out from the hips in two arches from which the voluminous skirt flew. Understated, amde to flatter the wearer and the accessories.

 

 

 

And he was right. Emma drew in a sharp breath in awe, and then got up to inspect the dress. She touched the fabric and inspected the seems. And when it passed muster, she nodded happily.

From there, they went to the sitting room, where the shoes were. He had never been shoe shopping with his wife, though he had experienced how happy those things made her. So he sat contendly on one of the sofas as his wife tried on nearly every shoe in the room. In the end, she was trying to decide which ones to take, and on a whim, he just said: “We’ll take the all.”

Emma’s mouth fell open, and the owner of the shoeshop started stammering. “Your highness—are you—I mean—I could give—the costs—“

Thorin waved his hand as a sign that he wasn’t really interested. The bill would be sent to the treasury; he wouldn’t even have to see it, though he would have to endure Balin’s nagging about spending limits and such. He almost snorted outloud in derision. His mines brought up enough in a day to pay for the shoes. No, the money was of no consequence.

“But where am I going to put them?” Emma asked dumbfoundedly, therewith breaking his happy pondering about mining proceeds and such.

“No worries. It is taken care of.” His wife looked at him questioningly, but he wasn’t willing to disclose one of his surprises just yet. It would be the closer of the day, and a good one, he hoped.

But first, first it was time for the most precious piece of jewelry he had ever set eyes on. Impatiently, he took her to the last chamber; his study. He couldn’t help showing his anticipation, so with a smile he pulled the cloth that had been covering the mannquin with the shouldernecklace off, under the nervous eye of the jewelry smiths.

“It is merely the concept model, azyungal. If it is to your taste, you will wear it in mythril and the starlight jewels.” He said while putting the necklace on her and closing several nearly invisible clasps.

But he got no answer. His wife was staring at her image in the mirror with her mouth almost hanging open.  And as he looked himself, he couldn’t help but do the same. The piece started with a short necklace of bigger stones from which bigger and smaller chains of set stone hung. Over the line from her neck to her shoulder were running the two biggest chains, which led to the shoulder pieces: two half moon shaped, almost brooch like structures. They were connected so several loose hanging chains running own her arms. And slacked chains that connected back to the necklace. Over the center of her chest triangle shape chains hung, and on her back the two shoulder pieces were connected by slack hanging chains. It complemented her perfectly; showing off her long, swann like neck and sharp colarbone, as well and the magnificent swell of her breasts.

 

 

 

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The walls of the massive room were covered with racks, shelves and bars from which clothing hangers hung ready to be used. Intermitted parts were left for floor to ceiling mirrors, reflecting the lights from the many chandeleers. In the middle stood several opulent benches, separated by high glass boxes with life size mannequins in them.

As she walked by them, she saw that four mannequins were already dressed. The one closest to the door of the dressing room, or dressing hall to be more accurate, wore her wedding dress. Everything was there; her veil, the diamond belt, and eve her shoes. The second one wore the dress she had on on the four month ball, the feathers of the skirt shining in the soft light. The third one was wearing the dress of the presentation of Stone and Mell; the pearl top and the wide blue skirt cleaned of the milk the boys spit up on it and the bow in the back tied perfectly. And the fourth, the fourth was wearing an old pair of beige, suede breeches and a ragged cashmere top. When she took a closer look, she saw it was the clothes she had wore on their journey, the ones she had forgotten when she took off after her fight with Thorin.

For a moment Emma could not breathe. This were not just some randomly chosen outfits put in a glass box to decorate the room. These were carefully selected, and the room was built around them. She looked at her husband, whom smiled at her a bit melancholically.

“I like the last outfit most.” He said, and before he could continue his explanation, she took a few small steps towards him and wrapped her arms around his torse and burried her face into his neck. He immediately hugged her back and for a long time they just stood there, eachother’s presence enough to be contend.

She had not felt this closeness to him for a very long time. It had all started the day she told him she was pregnant and he had gone to sleep somewhere else, and then only got worse after Melo died and the fighting began. And then the boys came, and for a while there was no room in her life to think of anyone else but her sons. But they had started sleeping through the night recently, and would move to their own room soon. And that brought space for her to think of her husband and her marriage. And space for her to realise that she had missed Thorin desperately.


	23. Fear III

“Did Dis organize this?” She asked him softly when they were eating, trying to keep the disbelief out of her words.

Thorin looked a bit ashamed for a moment, but then cleared his throat and sat a little straighter. “No. She was—busy, and I thought I might know best what you like, so I took it upon myself to organize this day for you.”

Emma took in this piece of information rather calmly. She knew Dis did not exactly like her, but this display of disrespect she had not expected. Normally Dis adhered to tradition, she couldn’t be kept away from it with a dozen horses. So for her to abandone it like this, was a slap in the face. But Emma bit back her anger; she would rub it in Dis’ face later.

“Did you make any plans for the evening?” She asked Thorin after a while, and his head jerked up and he looked at her with wie eyes.

“No—I eeh, expected you had other things to do.”

She nodded. “I will bring my well wishes to Sigrid, and perhaps speak with Elrond.” Fili’s bride to be was having her maiden’s evening this night, and she had chosen to hold it in Erebor. As expected, she was not one for big, wild parties, so she had only asked some of her friends and Emma and Tauriel. The later had happily accepted, but Emma had declined, saying she had other obligations.

Thorin did not ask what she wanted to discuss. It was like there was an invisible border, and as she did not ask about his business, he did not ask about her’s. both were aware of the border, and both were unconfortable with it, but neither of them dared to take the first step in taking it down.

“I will go and have a drink at Fili’s evening.” Thorin said. “He’s having it in one of the taverns on the lower levels, so it promisses to be an interesting night,”

Emma wanted to ask what would make the night interesting; would it be the tavern’s musicians, guests or would it be something less innocent like hired entertainment or even worse: past mistresses? Yet she did not, again avoiding sensitive subject between them. Instead she nodded understandingly and wished her husband a nice evening. But Thorin must have noticed, as he looked at her with his ‘piercing gaze’.

“There is no reason for you to worry, azyungal.” He said quietly, and for a split second she froze.

But then she put a smile on her face and looked back at him. “I know.”

He put down his knife and placed his hand on her’s. “It seems you don’t, and I don’t blame you. But I hope you’ll find trust in me, as I trust you.”

Looking back on this moment later, she knew this was the first hint that he knew, but right now, she only nodded with a small smile and continued eating.

 

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He hesitated a moment before he knocked on the door. Not because he did not want to enter or feared what he would find, but because he was afraid he was interrupting something. His daughter had been caring for her children tirelessly in the past months, barely getting any rest for herself, and he wanted her to be able to regain her energy on this special day. But she had asked him to come at this specific time, so he knocked anyway.

Beyond the servant opening the door for him and letting him in, he saw no sign of anybody present in the royal chambers. So he slowly walked around, looking at the changes made by Thorin’s builders. The appartment had doubled in size, adding a playroom for the children, a new dining room and what looked like a dressing room. After a moment of hesitation about invading privacy, he walked into the room and looked at the glass displays. The first three outfits he knew, though the first, Emma’s wedding dress, brought a little sting to his heart. The fourth, he did not know. But by the fingerprints visible on the glass, which were not to be seen on the other displays, he knew it was special, even more so than the other, more luxurious, outfits. Yet it was nothing special, more like the opposite. A pair of suede breeches, good quality but dirty and well worn. A cashmere tunic in the same state, and a black, tight vail that would cover the face of the wearer much like those worn by the Haradrim, only without the many windings around the head.

He realised that must be the vail Melo told him about, the one that Emma had been forced to wear by Eliana’s ex-husband. He had seen her face covered on the night before her wedding of course, but that seemed to be a much more loose hanging vail, that would allow her to breathe normally. He quickly turned away from the display, not wanting to be confronted any longer with his daughter’s past, and walked back to the old part of the appartment. There, he stopped in front of the former dining room and tested if the room was locked. To his surprise it was not, and he stepped in. If walking around his daughter’s chamber without explicit permission felt a little bit unappropriate to him, this felt completely out of bounds. But he couldn’t help himself, knowing what was inside. In this case, reality was much bigger than imagination, as the first thing he saw was portret of Melo, more than double his real size. It wasn’t one of those stiff portrets other races seem to favour, with the subject standing tal land mightily, usually holding a large sword. In this picture, Melo stood in front of a large pheline, something like a white tiger crossed with a mountain lion, only bigger and with signings of a leopard, only in whites and greys. He stepped a little closer and examined the picture. He had heard of those fabled animals, but not even Eliana had actually seen a live one.

And then he heard the footsteps and knew he was too late. “Yes, they actually exist. But if that is what you find most interesting in this room, I am disappointed in you, ada.”

“I am sure I can find much more interesting things, selde, but I do not wish to pry into your private correspondation with your brother.” He said kindly, but without turning around, his eyes still on the portrait.

“And coming into this room, a root hat is closed to everyone, even my husband, is not prying?” Emma said mildly sarcastically.

“Forgive me.” He said while turning to her.  “My curiosity got the best of me.”

He had expected her to be upset, but she looked at him with a soft smile. “Come, lets have some tea.”

When the tea had arrived and they were comfortable on the sofas in the sittingroom, he looked at her questioningly.

“It’s—it’s about Jessa” She started, but then stopped again and stared at her cup of tea for a while and did not finish what she wanted to say.

So Elrond took up the converation, knowing exactly what was on her mind. “Yes, it’s a difficult situation, isn’t it? A woman such as her is difficult to bear in once vicinity, yet her son is difficult to send away, because of who he is, and because of Thorin. A difficult choice indeed. One must be absolutely and completely sure beyond any doubt that Jessa had something to do with what has happened. Otherwise one would be separating a child from his mother without a just cause.”

 

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“That’s what she said!” Kili exclaimed loudly to the hilarity of all present, and roaring laughter filled the small tavern. Somehow his nephews had taken a liking to a tavern situated in the lower levels of the mountain, frequented by miners and tinkers and such. When he had once asked why they didn’t go to one of the establishments on the higher levels where all the nobles went, they had looked at him with the exasperation he normally saved for especially dumb and persistant children, and Kili had let out an exagerated sigh. ‘We don’t go there _because_ only nobles go there, uncle’ they had said in a fake-patient tone. ‘All they want to do is talk business and send their boring, prudish daughters our way’. He could have argued that it would be a good opportunity to network and gain opportunities for Erebor, but he hadn’t; the lads deserved to have some fun once in a while.

Thorin had never quite gotten from what situation the ‘that’s what she said’ joke stemmed, but he knew many examples in which the phrase was horribly funny. So he grinned along with the rest and took his seat next to his oldest nephew. As if on cue, barmaids started coming in with ales and snacks, and for a moment Thorin wondered how such a small tavern could employ so many maids. But when the maids adressed Fili, Kili and their friends with their first name and in a very companiable way, he knew their first occupation wasn’t actually serving drinks; that was just part of their jobdescription.

He looked dourly at Fili and bent towards him a bit. “Aren’t you supposed to get married tomorrow?” he asked.

Fili smiled back, without any of the embarassment he himself would have felt if such a question was deemed necessary to ask him on the eve before his wedding. “Yes, well, as I always say: you can get hungry, as long as you eat at home.”

He let out an exasperated sigh. Those lads were too good with their words. So he turned to his other side and started talking to Dwalin, but his comrade also seemed to be of the opinion that those girls were more interesting than him, so their conversation didn’t amount to much.

He listened to the talking of others for a while, and let his mind wander a bit, to his wife mostly. Things were seeming to improve lately, and he hoped nothing would happen to change that. However, as she was still supposed to tell him what she was going to do with Ferin, he believed it unlikely. But still: improvement.

She also seemed to slowly be becoming herself again. He knew of course that after pregnancy, women were more focussed on taking care of their children than of themselves, and he had not minded at all. Yet, it was nice to see her do something about the way she looked again. But on the other hand, if she continued to do so, it would make his life increasingly difficult. Half his days were already filled with games of ‘hide the hard-on’, and if Emma went back to wearing those delicious dresses again, it would become a full time obligation as it had become very clear this morning that she would do nothing to alleviate his _needs_.

Not that he blamed her after everything that had happened, but still. It had been a year, and it was been getting difficult, especially when he woke up next to her and he just knew  she could feel him pushing against her back. But as she politely ignored it, so did he in those moments. Only to run to the bathroom when she was having breakfast.

He was jutted out of his thoughts by a couple of ‘barmaids’ decidedly coming his way while gigling softly and casting him unsubtle looks through their eyelashes. He ignored them at first, though it was hard to do as they swarmed around him. But when one of them coyly told him that all the eats were taken, and then asked if there perhaps was room on the royal lap, he turned crimson.

“Room on the royal lap?! Has some sort of a disease taken hold of your mind, talking to your king like that?!”

If he was honest, his outburst partly stemmed from frustration, and partly from indignation. He was king, and he certainly didn’t need to make use of the services of a whore; he never had. Feeling his mood would not improve this evening, he wished the others a good evening and left, telling the owner of the tavern to send the bill to the royal treasury on his way out so Fili would know he wasn’t upset with him.

 

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“Her having not one, but two sons only strengthens her position next to Thorin.” Dis said, and Jessa nodded in agreement. “It will be difficult to get rid of her.”

Jessa smiled, knowing when Dis was getting to a point without making it too obvious. “Difficult but not impossible?” She guessed, knowing how to make Dis feel like she hung to every word that left her lips. The princess was so predictable. She also wanted to be deemed important, and she also wanted to be able to influence people’s decisions; just like her brother and sons.

“There is somethng Fili told me once, when he ame home rather drunk one night.” Dis murmered, pretending to have to dig into her memory. Jessa smiled encouragingly, this was bound to be good as the princes were among the few that ever got close to the Bitch.

“Something about Thranduil and Rivendel.” Dis continued, and Jessa felt she might burst if this was going where she tought it was going. Emma and Thranduil, what a complete and very convenient joke! Everyone knew that Thorin loathed Thranduil, so forgiveness would be out of the question, making room for herself.

“Yes, now I remember. Fili implied that Emma slept with Thranduil when she was in Rivendel.” Dis whispered. “But I don’t think we should let that information leave this room.”

Jessa knew that Dis wanted nothing more than to run to Thorin and tell him this, she had just been waiting for the right opportunity, and a little nudge perhaps. And Thorin buying Emma a complete new wardrobe was a clear sign of reconciliation, something that should be nipped in the bud.


	24. Wedding I

He watched his wife as she sat  on the bed, her legs pulled up a bit, feeding his sons. It had been difficult for her to find out three months after the birth of the boys that she was no longer able to feed them enough. He remembered the afternoon he came to have lunch with them vividly, Emma sobbing so uncontrolably that he believed something horrible had happened to the boys, until Shana informed him of what was going on.

He hadn’t quite understood her sadness, he had thought she wouldn’t feed her children herself in the first place, and then when she did, he thought she would be happy someone else took over. His mother had never fed any of her children herself, and had always made it seem like the care for little children was utterly exasperating. So now his wife ony fed her sons in the morning, and when she was done they still needed a wetnurse to feed them more to be satisfied.

The discrete sound of a servant scraping his throat got him out of the chair he was sitting in and out of the room. “What is it?” he asked a bit impatiently, annoyed that he had been disturbed.

“Princess Dis is here to see you, your highness. And she had brought a friend.” The servant whispered, knowing about the tense relationship between the queen and the princess and her friend.

He gritted his teeth and walked to the antechamber, curtly waving his hand at Dis as a sign she should follow him to his study. He pointedly ignored Jessa, as she knew she should not come here for any other reason than to bring him his son.

“Why are you here, Dis?” he asked in a clipped voice when they were all seated, not having forgotten that she had not organized Emma’s Amad day.

Dis and Jessa were sitting at the edge of their chairs, while he was leaning on the edge of his desk, looking down on him. They looked like a pair of schoolgirls being called by their teacher, and he wondered what was going on

“Well, you see, Thorin, some rumours have come to our attention. Rumours that I believe you have to be informed of.” Dis started, and then looked at him for some sort of encouragement. It intrigued him, normally his sister was never so reluctant to speak her mind. So he raised an eyebrow as a sign for her to continue, and wished he hadn’t.

“It is being said that Emma has seen Thranduil in Rivendel. In private.”

His ears were filled with the rushing of his blood, but he could hear Jessa adding: “Intimately”.

‘This is a disaster’ Was his first thought, and then his rage began. His sister had gotten one of her sons to tell her this, and was then stupid enough to share it with someone outside the family. Someone she knew hated Emma. Someone she knew would make this knowledge public. The high pitched tones of Jessa’s voice started to pierce through to his thoughts, and with a backhand swing of his hand he hit her across her cheek, watching her head swing to the side with some sort of percersed satisfaction. Well, at least the high pitches were gone.

He saw his ex-mistress tightly hold her hand to her jaw and Dis looking at him with wide eyes and open mouth. He clenched his jaw and then squated down in front of the two women, looking at Jessa first.

“My wife is contemplating what will be done with you as we speak. So if you value your life just the littlest bit, you re going to keep quiet about this.” He said in a low, threatening voice, and Jessa nodded franticly before jumping out of her chair and running out of the room.

Without paying attention to her, Thorin got up and turned to Dis, fisting the back of her hair and lifting her up. “A bruised cheek would somewhat spoil the day for your son, sister, but if you ever do anything that might harm Emma our my children, that will be the least of your problems.”

Dis tried to grab his hands with hers’ so he would let go of her hair, and looked at him beseachingly. “Please Thorin, I just thought you had to know!”

He scoffed and let go of her hair. “No Dis. You didn’t do this for me, you did this for you. Because for some reason you don’t like my wife.”

“Do you not care then?! Do you not care that your wife slept with another?!” Dis choked out, incredibly frustrated that this wasn’t going as she had planned.

Thorin stepped closer to her and brought his mouth to her ear. If someone were to see, they would thin they were a brother and sister sharing a secret, but from her brother’s tone Dis knew he was becoming dangerous. “I have known for a long time.”

She paled and swallowed thickly, and then ran out of the room. As Thorin stood straight again he looked at the door, and saw Emma standing there, looking at him emotionless.

 

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When he walked into the bedroom, holding the big and heavy chest with her jewelry, she was sitting at her dressing table, Shana combing and parting her hair so it could be braided correctly. She normally wore it loose, but on formal occasions such as today she did as expected and had her braided into the complicated Durin paterns.

With a nudge of her head he sent Shana out of the room, something she did only after Emma also gave her a small nod. And then they were alone. He put the box on the dressing table, letting his fingertips linger on it for a moment, and the went to stand behind her.

“Shall I braid your hair for you, azyungal?” Emma nodded mutely, and with a sigh of enjoyment he started.

He choose to start with a braid from the top of her head to her neck, adding strands loosely before ending in her neck, where he folded and braided everything into a bun, braids twisting and curling around eachother with diamonds discretely shimmering from the folds.

When he was done, he took her hand and tugged gently in a request for her to stand up. She meekly did as he asked, not even hesitating when he took off her dressing gown. She was already wearing the correct underwear, at least he thought so, so he took her dress from the rack that stood in the corner of the room, and put it in front of him. With a hand on his shoulder she leaned on him, and them put her fee tinto the dress one by one. When she stood straight again, he took the edge of the bodess of the dress and pulled it up. He turned her around and then closed the hidden zipper.

She did not move without him telling her so, so when he let go, she remained with her back to him and he used to opportunity to open the wooden box and carefully take out the shoulder necklace. A shiver went thorugh his wife as he put the heavy chains on her, and he shifted them a little so everything was in the right position before he started closing the many small clasps. When that was done, he took her dark blue, high heeled shoes that were covered in diamonds and placed them in front of her feet. Again she softly put her hand on his shoulder to keep her balance and stepped into them.

Only then, did he really look at her. Her updo accentuated her slim and long neck, while the bodess of her dress gave her a tiny waist but simultaneously pushed up her breasts to the point her nipples were almost visible. Almost, but not quite. Heaven wrapped up in silk, he thought, and his cock started to twitch at just the sight of her.

He quickly divested himself of his own clothing and put on his formal clothes; a stiff, Durin blue doublet decorated with mythril clasps and black breeches. Then, he sat down at her dressing table and handing her a comb, indicating she should do his hair for him. He had always enjoyed the feeling on her fingers running through his hair, and as it had been so long, now even more. She had the talent of making his braids look just right, without pulling his hair or making them lopsided or with the baids uneven. But this time he felt her fingers tremble slightly, and he softly ran his fingers over the back of her hand. She did not return the gesture, nor did she look at him, being completely focussed on his hair, and he felt the tremble intensify for a moment, only to disappear the moment after.

When she was done with his hair and beard, he offered her his arm. “Ready?” he asked, and with wide eyes and tightly pressed together lips she nodded mutely.

In the antechamber, a servant put their cloaks on their shoulders, and he led her to Erebor’s main entrance where the carriages were already waiting to bring them to Dale where the first part of the wedding was to take place. There had been a lot of fuss over the order in which the events of the wedding were to take place. Normally, the first ceremony would have to be held in Erebor, as Thorin believed the coule could not get married in Dale only to sign the marriage contract afterwards in Erebor; the contract would have to be signed first. But Bard had argued that it would be foolishness to start in Erebor, then go to Dale and then back to Erebor for the party. Thorin had wanted to argue that it was foolishness for Fili and Sigrid to get married in Dale anyway, but Fili had practically begged him to let it happen as Sigrd wanted to. He was already regretting that decision.

Emma was fidgitting while they sat in the carriage. Fidgetting and chewing the inside of her cheek. He knew how she must have been feeling, as he himself had been in a similar situation once, so he took her right hand in his left in order to stop her from pulling on one of the seems of her dress.

“Are we going to---“ She finally spoke, her voice a bit hoarse.

“I have known for a long time, and I haven’t found it a subject worthy of discussing then, so I do not wish to do so now.”

He felt his wife trying to pull her hand back in an automatism of wanting to fidget with something when she became nervous, so he held it tighter and just looked out of the window. He liked looking at his mountain, it was sooting in a way, but somehow it was more pleasing to see if he was going towards it instead of away from it.

When they arrived in front of Bard’s palace in Dale, servants opened the doors and he quickly stepped out and walked to the other side. He saw one servants offering his hand to help Emma out, and she looked at him as if he had gone mad. With a snicker he shoeed the man away and offered his own hand instead. Many things could be said about his wife, but she would not be so disrespectful as to let a strange man touch her in front of him. He shrugged that thought of quickly thoughf, as it reminded him of the man she did let touch her and kept his arm up stiffly, so she might put her hand on it. With a featherlight touch, that he barely felt through the stiff fabric of his doublet, she did and togeher they walked into the palace.

Everyone was already seated, Fili standing in front of a large wooden table with a chandeleer hanging over it, waiting for Sigrid and her father to enter. But first all heads turned to him and Emma, mouths falling open, presumably over how his wife looked and what she was wearing. Or better yet: what jewelry she carried on her shoulders. And she carried it very well. Despite of the emotions he knew were running through her like waves crashing on the shore, she held her head high and her back straight. And of course the starlight gems shone like the north star, but it was the way the necklace pulled attention to her sharp colarbones that he liked more.

Their seats were shown to them by yet another servant, this one careful not to help Emma sit down, and to his dismay he saw she was seated next to Dis. His sister looked like she had swallowed something extremely unpleasant, but did not say anything.

Music started playing, and everyone got up, looking behind them to the doors. Through them came Bard and Sigrid. He could not see the expression on her face, as she wore a veil similar to the one his wife had worn when they got married, but from her light tread he could see she was happy on this day. The frown on her father’s face did not show such a disposition, but at least he did not look downright angry, as Elrond had done when Emma was brought to Thorin.

When Sigrid and Bard where standing next to Fili, Bard placed her hand in Fili’s and lifted her veil, giving his almost-son in law a very stern and warning look, and then the king of Dale sat down next to the king of Erebor, suddenly looking extremely tired.

The man performing the wedding, probably a priest, Thorin concluded from his clothes, started talking about love, and unity. About the sanctity of marriage and the support a husband and a wife should give eachother. And thinking of those words, that had been absent on his own wedding as it was merely the signing of a contract, he took Emma’s hand in his, as it was those things he wanted between the two of them. Her soft fingers wrapped themselves around his hand, and he found great comfort in that gesture.

So great, that he almost missed the moment he was supposed to act. Appearantely Fili and Sigrid had already said their vows, and now he had to sign a paper stating his nephew and his wife were actually married and that he had witnessed it.  The foolishness of men again, needing a signature to confirm the witnessing of an event that had been witnessed by hundrerds of others. But he had promissed, so he got up and put his name and titles down. _Thorin, son of Thrain, son of Thror, king of Erebor, holder of the Arkenstone and bearer of the Oakenshield._

He liked that last bit most, as it was something he had accomplished all on his own. He had done nothing to be son of his father or grandson to his grandfather. And Erebor was reclaimed with the help of others while Emma had gotten the Arkenstone for him. But his Oakenshield, that was something he and he alone had done.

When Bard had also signed, a simple _Bard of Girion, king of Dale_ , the priest-man pronounced his nephew married and introduced him and his wife to the watching crowd. Cheers erupted, and the couple walked out of the hall, to the people walking there, the ceremony ended witout a single word or drop of ink dedicated to the terms and conditions of the marriage. He mentally shook his head and scoffed before getting up and offering his arm to Emma again, following the newly weds on their way to Erebor.


	25. Wedding II

She had been unable to breathe when she heard Dis tell her secret to Thorin, and it seemed she was only able to regain that breath when Thorin took her hand in his’ during the wedding ceremony. Every moment before that she had thought that his seemingly kind actions would turn as a leaf in the wind and strikes would start raining down on her.

But they didn’t, and while seated in Bard’s hall, listening to the words spoken by the priest, she got it: he had actually known almost from when it had taken place, and he hadn’t held it against her, nor would he. She just couldn’t fathom why not. It was not like she wanted him to get upset, but she wondered if this was a trade: his forgiveness for her acceptance of his proposal. But if that was the case, then his knowledge of what she had done would have been very recent, and she was sure that wasn’t so.

She watched him sign some papers alongside Bard, and then coming back to sit next to her, taking her hand again. The priest spoke a little more, and then suddenly everyone got up, and Thorin offered her his arm. She took it without thinking, and they followed Fili and Sigrid.

She had not seen it on their way to Bard’s palace, too distracted with other things, but the streets of Dale were beautifully decorated with white flowers, flag lines and guirlandes. The common people stood on the sides, cheering and waving little white flags on sticks. Little girls offered Sigrid little bouquets of the pale blue flowers that were shooting up all over the lands between Erebor and Dale. She accepted them all with kind smiles, and Emma could just see that she actually cared, and that the people cared for her.

When they were seated in their carriage again, Emma looked to Thorin, He was sitting next to her, normally he would have taken the seat opposite to hers, and was looking out of the window. She wondered if perhaps she should let him enjoy his view in peace, but decided she needed to ask him as she just couldn’t stand the tension anymore.

“What are you going to do, Thorin?”

He tore his gaze from the window and then looked at her. “Do about what?”

His question was posed so innocently, that Emma didn’t know if it was genuine or if he was playing with her like a cat would with a mouse. So she cleared her throat, and said: “About me.”

He put his hand on the back of her head and pulled her closer to him. She tensed up, thinking it would happen now, but he leaned his forehead on hers. And looked in her eyes. “I am going to do nothing, azyungal. We are going to forget this happened, as I have done that past year and a half. I admit it was difficult, no man likes his wife being touched by another, but we have both made mistakes.”

She looked back at him, still doubting if he as being truthfull or this was some horrible way to lull her into a sense of safety only to yank it away when she felt comfortable. But he slowly took his forehead from hers and then placed a tender kiss on it.

 

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Back in Erebor, she made a quick visit to her chamber, as she and Thorin were to enter the hall last so she had time to spare. They were sleeping peacefully in their craddle, Mellin sucking on his little fist. In a while, when they woke up, he would have drewled all over his sheets and pyjama, and everything would have to be changed. But it was endearing nonetheless.

She nearly jumped when she felt a hnd on her shoulder, but her tension subsides somewhat when she saw in was Thorin standing behind her and peering into the craddle, though not much.

“They have grown.” Her husband said in a hushed voice, and he smiled fondly. “Soon they’ll sleep in their own room and before you know it they will marry and have children of their own.”

That was one of the most terrible things Emma had ever heard, and she had to take some deep breaths to shake the thought of the day that her sons would leave her off. Thorin chuckled and pulled her close to him with his arms around her waist. “There will be many occassions in which you will forward to that day, azyungal, don’t worry.”

 

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In Dale she hadn’t payed attention to it, but here, in the high, candle-lit halls of Erebor it was clear; everyone stared at her when she entered. Some eyes, like Thranduil’s, were focussed on the stones around her neck. Others, like her ada’s, were looking at her fondly. And then there were the curious ones, the looks that were trying to get to know more about her, to confirm or deny their preconceived thoughts about her. And when she lookd at the people that were looking at her, Balin droned out her names and titles. It was getting tiresome; she should do less to get more titles.

“It is the necklace.” Thorin whispered with a small smirk. “And the fact that you haven’t been out in public for a while.”

Shortly after, the reading of the contract began. Unfortunately, the texts that were supposed to be recited hadn’t become more interesting since her own wedding or the wedding of Kili and Tauriel, so the next hour was incredibly dull. Thorin had been raised with this, listening to dull men speak dull words, and he had perfected the art of looking like the perfect balance between dour and attentive. Once he had confided in her that he barely listened, but somehow managed to pick up the important parts. She herself however, was not so adept at that.

And then it was over; the cheering jugging her out of her thoughts and automatically she clapped. They looked happy, Fili and Sigrid. Happy and pretty together.

Dinner was the same as ever, only the dishes were slightly different this time. Sigrid had chosen them, so more greens and more fish. Thankfully tthat had not caused  lower number of meatdishes, or the dwarven guests would have rebelled.

And then it was time for dancing. For dwarves, it was simple: the newlyweds opened the ball and other people could follow after a minute or two. But Balin, and through him Thorin and Emma, had been informed that Men had all kinds of rules for it. Not only were the newlyweds expected to dance, the father of the bride also had to dance with the mother of the groom, and the father of the groom with the mother of the bride. That last dance wouldn’t happen, of course, but Bard was to dance with Dis. And then there had been the question of whom was expected to open the ball. For Men, it weren’t the newlyweds, but the highest ranking people attending.

So they had talked, and quarreled, and grudged to decide whom it would be. Both Bard and Thorin were kings, both coming from a line of kings, though a bit further removed in Bard’s case. And then, to the hilarity of many, Elrond had pointed out that neither of them was the highest ranking. Emma was; she was queen in her own right and of Erebor, and princess of Rivendel.

The pride of both men had been wounded slightly, and Balin knew that was never a favourable situation when one was to plan a feast that had to be right for two cultures. So he had told them in a tone that was more decisive than he actually felt that Bard would open with Emma. When he found out he was moved a couple of seats down the table at dinner that night, he had felt the tiniest pang of regret, but it had given him enough laughs in the privacy of his own home to make up for that.

So now Bard was standing in front of Emma with a courteously held out hand. She rose from her throne graciously and let him lead her to the dancefloor. And then the music started. Normally, she considered herself a good enough dancer, but the musician, again chosen by Sigrid, sang a song with a rhytm she was completely unfamiliar with.

“Don’t worry, I’ve practiced.” Bard whispered in her ear.

He led well enough, but Emma was still relieved when first Fili and Sigrid, and a little later others, joined them on the dancefloor so any mistakes she might make wouldn’t be noticed so easily. When the song ended, much sooner than other tunes would end, she was a bit disappointed. She ouwld have liked to dance with Thorin to this song; it spoke about the sharing between a couple, of good and of bad, and the rhytm was slow and romantic.

So instead, she took her seat next to him again, and entatively took his hand, a little uncertain of how he would react. But he grabbed it more tightly and held their clasped hands tugged to his thigh.

A little later, Gandalf came to stand next to their thrones, amusing himself first a bit by looking at the dancefloor. “Aaah, the joy of love.” He murmered happily, and nodded his head in tune with the song.

Thorin and Emma exchanged a glance, knowing this was all just a prelude to Gandalf’s real goal. The wizard was kind, and he had been paramount to the quest, but he rarely did anything without some sort of a plan behind it. And as expected, he began:

“Almost the complete white council is here, and we would really like to sit down and have a good talk with the two of you.”

Emma’s eyes flew to where Elrohir was sitting, but he only nodded at her in encouragement.

“This is my sister-son’s wedding, wizard, I am not going to leave for a talk.” Thorin responded semi-grumpily before Emma could say anything, and the wizard chuckled.

“Nor I. So around noon tomorrow? In that small hall we have meeted before?” He suggested, though the tone of his voice made it clear that there would be a talk, willing or not.

“Three would suit better.” Thorin responded, and then  it was arranged.

She still hadn’t made her mind up about what to do with the white council’s request. The had taken a liking to the idea of taking Gundabad, but everything around it made her doubt. Having to leave Erebor, being without her boys, war, death, it all made her feel like it wasn’t really worth the effort.


	26. Wedding III

“May I, your highness?”

The softly spoken question came unexpected, as Emma had not seen Sigrid stand up and come to her. She had been sitting next to Fili, whom was seated next to Thorin, though on a lower throne. Appearantely she hadn’t felt like dancing after the first few compulsary dances, but had sat next to her husband, throwing nervous glances towards the king and queen of Erebor every once in a while.

Sigrid must have been building up her courage, Emma thought with a fainth smile, as she now asked to sit next to her, a seat normally for Dis, but by the grace of Mahal her sister in law had not sat there all night.

“Yes, come, sit.” She said, curious as to why Sigrid wanted to sit with her.

She watched as the new princess sat down, rearranged her skirts, put her hair in the right place, and ten more things to delay something she started herself. It was highly amusing, but she knew they were being watched, she felt Bard’s eyes on her, so she did not show it.

“Are you enjoying the day?” She asked in a congenial tone, hoping to relax Sigrid a bit. She knew the girl looked up to her, wanting to imitate her a bit. But it would be rather embarassing if she kept acting like this, after all, they were family now.

“O yes, very much so.” Sigrid replied with a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes.

“But….?” She encouraged.

“I’m---I’m a bit worried.”

“Worried about what?”

“About the bedding ceremony.” Sigrid admitted in a soft voice, rolling the hem of her sleeve between her fingers.

She had absolutely no idea what Sigrid was talking about. She had never heard about a ceremony for bedding, and it seemed a bit strange. “What is that?” She whispered back.

“You know, when the men bring the bride to her chambers and undress her and the women do the same for the groom.”

Fili getting undressed by a bunch of women was already difficult to imagine, but him letting other men undress his wife was even more impossible. It couldn’t be, could it?

She leaned to her other side and nudged Thorin, whom was having a discussion with Fili about something, she couldn’t quite make out what. “Are men supposed to bring Sigrid to her chambers tonight and undress her?” She whispered to him, not wanting anyone to overhear such a strange thing.

Thorin immediately sat up strange and looked around as if said men were about to jump out of corners and seize his nephew’s wife. So she put her hand on his forearm and ulled hi closer so he would listen again. “Sigrid said it is called a bedding ceremony or something. But we don’t do that, do we?”

Thorin scoffed and relaxed again. “Of course not! It is some sort of mannish thing. Idiots, showcasing their wives in front of others!”

“Then what should I tell her what will happen?”

Thorin shrugged. “The same as what happened on our wedding.”

She was starting to feel a bit like a messenger, but it was for a good cause so she turned to her left again. “No bedding ceremony. When you and Fili feel like it you can leave the party and retire. Someone will wait in your chambers, and when –eeeeh—well, when it’s done, Fili will hand that person the sheets and they will be brought to the council.”

Sigrid seemed to need a moment to think about this, turning a bit pale, but then looked at Emma. “And who will it be, that will be in the chamber with us?”

“Not _in_ the chamber with you! In the antechamber or something!”

That seemed to bring some relief, but Sigrid still asked whom it would be.

“Who will be getting the sheets from their chambers?” She asked her husband, whom was getting a bit annoyed that his conversation kept getting disturbed.

“Me.” He replied curtly, but then his expression and tone softened. “And you perhaps?”

She nodded in a resigned sort of manner, and then turned yet again. “Thorin and me.”

 

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“Who was waiting outside of our chambers?” Emma asked him with a hint of curiosity in her voice.

He had dreaded coming here and waiting alone, so he had asked her to join him. It was an ancient tradition, and he loathed it with every fibre in his body, but the virginity of the bride had to be proven by showing the sheets of the wedding bed to the council. He almost shuddered thinking about the friends and family that had had joined him on his quest to regain Erebor, had seen his wife’s blood on their sheets.

Due to the circumstances of the marriage, he had been able to get out from having to wait for Kili’s sheets, sending Fili instead. He still wondered what exactly they had done to the sheets to make the council think everything was in order. But as a male familymember higher in rank than the groom traditionally brought the sheets to the council, he had no choice but to perform this task for Fili.

“A servant.” He said flatly, not wanting Emma to know how humiliating he had found the whole ordeal, as it must have been a lot more humiliating for her. “There was no one higher in rank than me.”

Emma’s shoulders slumped a bit, though she had no idea why. She should have been happy that no one she knew was outside of her chambers during that night she would much prefer to forget. But somehow it felt like a slight, though she did not know whom from or for.’

 _“All of that?!_ ” They suddenly heard coming from the bedroom, spoken in a slightly panicked tone, and Emma couldn’t help but blush and avert her face so Thorin wouldn’t see.

She found it a bit childish, still having to blush like that while sitting next to the man that had even seen her giving birth, but things had changed between them, especially after this morning. They weren’t so familiar with eachother as they had been before, as if they were getting to know eachother again. She fidgetted with her dress a bit, rearranging the folds of the skirt in an attempt to distract herself from thinking about what would be going on behind the wooden doors of Fili and Sigrid’s bedroom.

“What was it like for you, our wedding night?” Thorin asked in a hushed voice, not wanting to be overheard or make his presence too obvious to the newlyweds.

Emma chewed the inside of her cheek. It was a difficult subject to speak about, even after two and a half years. She had felt a complete lack of control, besides the obvious discomfort the activities had given her.

As she opened her mouth to answer him, Thorin said: “You don’t have to tell me, if you don’t want to.”

The clumsiness  of the situation somehow brought some comedic relief, and they joined together in a soft grin, eleviating the mood.

“It was difficult.” She started, needing a moment after that to find the words she needed to speak her thoughts. “You have to understand, women like me are told their whole lived that their virginity is the most valuable thing they have and they have to protect it at all times. And then suddenly it’s gone.”

Thorin nodded, though she was not sure whether it was in understanding or in encouragement, but she continued nonetheless. It somehow felt nice to really talk to her husband again.

“I had no idea of what was to happen. And the only thing women tell eachother of how painfull it is, which only makes it more of a thing to dread.”

Thorin nodded again, carefully placing his hand over hers in her lap, softly stroking her skin with his calloussed thumb. “It was overwhelming, painfull and humiliating, to be honest.” She concluded while looking at their joined hands in her lap. “And I thought exactly what Sigrid just said.”

Thorin put his other arm around her shoulders and softly pulled her towards him untill her head was leaning on his shoulder, and he pressed a kiss on her forehead. “I love you.” He whispered so softly that Emma wondered if her actually said it or if she imagined it.

They sat like that for a while, in a companiable silence, untill Fili opened the bedroomdoor a bit and scraped his throat. Emma just found the whole situation too embarrassing, so she did not dare look in his direction, but Thorin got up and took the neatly folded sheet Fili handed him without saying anything. When the doors were closed again, Thorin shook out the sheet to make sure it was fit to present to the council. When he saw the telltale red spots and smears, he quickly folded it back up, as neatly as Sigrid had done, and offered Emma his arm as a sign they could leave.

 

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In the past months, Thorin had sometimes come to the bedroom to sleep next to her, but he had never made any move indicating that he had wanted to do something more, despite the clear evidence that at least his body wanted to, and she had never given him any indication that she wanted to. Somehow she just hadn’t felt ready for it yet mentally. The intimacy of it, and the vulnerability she would show him just hadn’t felt right yet.

But tonight seemed different, so when Thorin brought her to the bedroom, she turned her back to him in a silent request for him to open her dress. When he had pulled the zipper down without doing anything else, she turned back to face him and let the silk fabric slide down her body slowly, revealing herself to him. It was different from this morning. Then, it had been functional; he had dressed her. But now, she showed herself to him without a functional reason.

When she thought he didn’t react at first, she believed him to be not interested, and a blush of shame crept up from her chest to her neck and cheekbones, and she raised an arm over her chest to cover herself. Swift a a snake he grabbed it. Not tight enough to hurt her, but hard enough for her to feel how eh was holding himself back, how he was restraining himself.

“There is no obligation, azyungal.”He said in a low voice that betrayed how much he wanted this. “You should not feel like you _have_ to do this. I shall be equally content just to sleep together.”

With her free hand she started to unbuttn his shirt without saying anything and without looking at him. And when he let go of her, he let his arms drop limply next to his body. He helped her take off his clothing but did not actively participate, fearing she might be doing this just to appease him.

He only resisted when she started to push him backwards to the bed untill he sat on the edge of it and she was kneeled in front of him. “Don’t, azyungal.” He managed to grunt out between heavy, laboured breaths. “You don’t—“

His sentence was cut short by a sharp gasp he let out when she licked along the underside of his cock, making it even harder than it had been. Once the tip of her tongue had left the top of his cock, she wrapped her lips around it and sucked him in. He moaned loudly and she took the root of it in her hand, moving in the rhytm of the movements of his mouth. He put his hand on her head, clenching and releasing his fist without actually pulling or pushing.

“Stop azyungal.” He breathed out. “You need to stop or I’m going to finish.”

But she didn’t, and he didn’t have the strength or the restraint to stop her. Seconds later he started to tilt his hips to push himself deeper into her mouth and she felt the throbbing on the bottom of his cock. With a long, drawn out groan he came, and for the first time she tasted him. It was a bit salty and sharp, but not unpleasant. When he started to get limp, she released him and swallowed, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand.

And that was the most erotic thing he had ever seen, yet at the same time the most embarrasing. He had spilled himself into his wife’s mouth, debasing her like she were a common whore. He started to blush, even more when his cock started to twitch again at the sight. It became even worse when she started to unhook the corset she was wearing and then stepped out of her thong. And when she bent down to take the small piece of fabric that had covered her nakedness and then got up, he let go of it all and lifted her up, her legs wrapped around his waist and his hands on her ass.

He started with her ears, knowing how much she enjoyed it. He nibbled and licked, running the tip of his tongue along the ridge of it. When she started writhing beneath him and he felt her fingers digging into his back, he moved on the her neck and then her colarbone. With his hands he envelopped her breasts, but it made her tense up. Questionningly he looked up at her, not knowing what he had done wrong and what she would do next.

She looked back at him, her breathing heavy with want, but a touch of embarrassment in her eyes. He brought his mouth back up to hers’ and pecked featherlight kissed on them, bringing his hands from her breasts to her hair. After several more kisses, he noticed how her hands were grasping his shoulders, pushing him down softly. A somewhat contend grin flashed across his lips, and without wasting any time he went down, avoiding her breasts completely and then twirling his tongue around her bellybutton and putting his hand on the inside of her thighs and pushing them open.

A soft moan left her lips when he put his lips exactly where she wanted them. He did not want to tease or make her wait, so he twirled his tongue around the little bud untill she was grasping at the sheets and hse lifted her hips off the bed. Then, he softly sucked and it sent her over the edge with a long, high-pitched, drawn out moan.

When she came down from her high, she looked at him, her mouth slightly open, and he lied next to her, softly kissing her again.

“Are you—I mean – can we—“ he said, suddenly stammering. He had just wanted to ask her if she was well enough to do this, but somehow he was unable to do so in plain words. But thankfully she seemed to understand what he meant, and she nodded, her gaze averted and a blush that told him she evenly uncomfortable with the subject.

He let his hand slide down from her waist tot he apex of her thigh, making her twitch when his fingers touched her still sensitive clit, and then slowly and carefully he pushed one finger inside of her. He hesitated with moving it; it seemed to him that after his sons came out of there it would be impossible for her to ever enjoy this again. But she moved against his hand to find the friction she needed, her head tilted back slightly, and he felt how ready she was for him. So he got on top of her, leaning on his elbows. With one hand he guided his cock to the right place, and then slowly started pushing, looking into her eyes.

Emma looked back for as long as she could, be when he sped up, it became too much and she just had to close her eyes. In an uncharacteristic slow and gentle way he brought her further and further towards the precipe, and when she fell over the edge, she faintly heard his loud groans.


	27. Fear IV

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry for the late update!!! I didn't know how to phrase what I wanted to say woth this chapter, and I had to leave the story alone for a while. Hope you still enjoy it :)

He woke up with the familiar warmth of his naked wife sleeping in his arms, and for a moment he felth completely satisfied. But then he remembered how it came to be that she was lying next to him naked and his breathing hitched. He couldn’t believe he had been so stupid, so unrestrained as to go along; he hadn’t even spoken with Oin yet.

As carefully as he could he wriggled his arm from under her head and then slid out of the bed. After putting a robe on, he stuck his head around the bedroomdoor and told one the servants to get Oin and arrange breakfast, in that order.

After having done that, he quickly put some real clothes on, and then paced up and down the antechamber while waiting for his friend and family doctor. When he finally came in, being loud as ever, Thorin took him to the sitting room, hoping that would be far enough from the bedroom so Emma wouldn’t be woken by the ever high volume of Oin’s voice.

His friend seemed to have noticed that it wasn’t something acute that he had been called for, and sat back on the sofa. “Headache after last night?” He enquired airily, knowing Thorin always had to be drawn out a bit.

“No. It is on an entirely different matter.” The reply came, without really saying anything. He found it difficult to discuss his wife’s private matters with anyone, even his trusted friend and family doctor. During the birth of his sons, he had noticed that he found it extremely uncomfortable that other men, doctors or not, were looking at his wife half naked, and the thought still gave him shivers of discomfort.

But Oin knew the rumors. As unfortunate as it was, servant’s gossip was always highly informative and spread faster than dragon’s fire. So he was aware that the king hadn’t bedded his queen since the pregnancy announcement, and the fact that he was called here now, after a party and after the princes had slept with their nurses, told him enough.

He smiled and nodded. “There is no physical obstacle to you and Emma, well, you know.”

Thorin’s head jerked up, abandoning  the spot on the wall h had been staring at. “Servants again?” he groaned, tired of having his private affairs being spread all around Erebor.

“The maid that brought me breakfast told my wife’s handmaiden.” Oin snickered, but quickly straightened his features as he saw the very annoyed face on his king.

“And for the rest?”

“Well, she said something about---“

“Not what your stupid maid said!” Thorin nearly yelled, and he took some deep breaths to calm down.   “I mean, with—eeeh—pregnancy and such.”

“Aaah, right. Well, normally that isn’t a question.” Oin pondered, and he adjusted his earhorn. “You know it takes a while before dwarven women can have another one, but with Emm being, well, what she is, I really don’t know. I wouldn’t advice it though.”

“Why?” Thorin asked, and it was difficult to make out if he was happy with the counsel given or not.

“It wasn’t easy for her, you were there, you saw. Give her time to recuperate.” Oin pulled a small bag from his pocket and put it on the table. “Here” he said. “She’ll know what to do with it.”

And with that, he got to his feet with a tired groan and left the royal chambers, leaving Thorin to stare at the bag on the table.

 

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“What is that?” She asked curiously after he had put the small bag on the breakfast table.

He had hoped she would ask by herself, as he had no idea how to breach the subject himself. It was strange really, his hesitance over this subject, and he thought about why it felt like that. Firstly, speaking about it would imply he expected her to sleep with him more often, and he feared being presumptuous a bit. And secondly, he somehow had the feeling she wouldn’t be too happy with it. He didn’t know why, but he thought she wanted more children, and soon.

“Oin brought it this morning. It is the herbs you used to take, before you wanted to have children.” He said, studiously avoiding looking at her while pretending it wasn’t of any importance.

But when his answer had left his lips, he was forced to look all the same; one could not have a conversation without looking at the other partner. His wife graciously put a piece of pancake in her mouth, chewing on it while studying the bag. When she had swallowed her bite, she leaned back in her chair and stared at him for a moment, before sitting forward again and leaning with her elbows on the table.

“So you and Oin met up this morning, I presume, and then talked about me not having any more children.” She said, her voice deceptively calm.

“Of course not, azyungal. I just asked him if we should take and precautions, seeing that your pregnany was rather hard on you.”

“Do you really want to get into the subject of _why_ my pregnancy was hard, Thorin. Or will you just take it from me that it had nothing to with being pregnant?!”

He put his hand on her upper arm and started drawing small circles with his thumb. “The birth was—Well, Oin said it would be better to wait a while.”

Emma scoffed and took her arm away from him. “I have little enough rights as it is, Thorin, so I will not have you take away my right to decide if and when I want children.”

And she was right, he thought, children were the ultimate vestige of women’s rights. Almost everything might be decided for them, but this wasn’t. In this area they ruled without interference, though heavy expectations were put on them, especially on royal women. So he tilted his head. “As you wish, azyungal. I do not tell you what to do, I merely ask you to take these things into consideration.”

The stubbornness left her face and was replaced by something much more soft, something caring. “I like children, Thorin. And I like being a mother. What is a little pain compared to the joy they bring me?”

Thorin looked at her with big eyes. “That wasn’t a _little_ pain, Emma.”

She shrugged. “Still worth it.” and then daintilly put a blueberry in her mouth, a small smile on her face that looked suspiciously like a victorious one.

 

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“They’re here, Emma. And for more good news: Celeborn is here as well.”

From his tone of voice, Emma knew that Celeborn being present was not a good thing at all, yet there was nothing she could but throw him begrudging glances. “You should have told me he might come.”  She grumbled, but he didn’t respond.

As they were getting up to go to the small meeting hall, Shana and Jalila came in, both carrying one of the princes. “Apologies, Emma.” Jalila said. “But they’re really fussy and we though that if they saw you for a coupe of minutes, they might calm down.”

Emma took first Stone and then Mellin, and softly started to lull them in the hopes they might fall asleep. At first it seemed to be working, but when Emma tried to hand them back to Shana and Jalila, they started screaming, their little faces turning beet red.

Emma was looking around nervously, thinking of a solution. She couldn’t cancel or postpone her meeting, but she certainly didn’t want to leave her boys while they were upset.

She sighed deeply after a moment. “Come Shana, I’ll just take them with me to the meeting.”

Emma held Mellin herself, and had wanted to give Stone to Shana, but Elrohir had stepped in. He just absolutely adored the little boys, and it wasn’t often that he had the chance to hold one. He made silly faces and said nonsense things to his nephew, and before he knew it they had arrived and Emma walked in looking like she didn’t have a care in the world. As she sat down next to Thorin at the head of the table, Rykar pulling her chair out, Shana standing a few stapes behind her and Elrohir just behind her to her left, Elrond’s dour face immediately brightened.

“There my boys are, come to your adu!” He said while claping his hands to get their attention and his voice close to cooing.

Celeborn looked rather annoyed at his former son in law, while Galadriel looked vaguely amused, though that seemed to be her default expression, Thranduil looked emotionless as ever, Bard smiled fondly, Balin looked surprised and Gandalf actually chuckled. But it did not seem to matter to the grandfather, as he started making faces at Stone when Elrohir handed him carefully.

The little smiles and bubbles of spit the small prince produced were not only to Elrond’s endearment, but Galadriel, sitting next to him, also started smiling at the boy and tickling his adorable chin with her finger.

>”Was this part of your tactic, Emma?”< Thorin murmered while looking at his father in law and the elven lady.

He had not really looked at his wife’s face, and he only saw the nervousness and tension on it as he looked at her for her answer. It might not be visible to others, but for him it was completely clear: bringing her children here almost turned her into a nervous wreck. He took her hand and wanted to say something, but Galadriel’s hunband cut in.

“Could we get started?!” Lord Celebron’s stern voice rang through the hall, and all looked at him.

“Aaaah, yes, so, Gundabad.” Gandalf responded, sounding like they had the most pleasurable afternoon ahead of them. “I believe you already know what we want from you, Emma.”

She smiled and slowly swung a bracelet in front of Mell to keep him entertained. “Yes, I am well aware. The only question is what I will gain from it.”

Celeborn scoffed and pointed at her necklace. She had liked it so much that she had just worn it again today, even though it might be a little too extravagant for daytime functions. “Those gems hanging around your neck are called the jewels of Lasgalen by my people. Lasgalen means the Greenwood, by the way. And they are named like that because they originate from the Greenwood. But the dwarves of Erebor took them under false pretences, claiming they found them here, and never gave all of them back, only a small necklace to pay for a woman as if she were cattel. So I don’t think it is the question of what you can gain, but of what you can do for the world to make up for all that the dwarves have taken.”

Immediately the temperature of the atmosphere seemed to drop, and without being needed to be told to do so, Shana took Stone back from Elrond and held him while standing closer to the doors than to Emma. That set the tone even futher, and Thorin shifted minutely to be able to reach for his sword easier while Rykar half unsheathed his.

As Elrohir leaned in to take Mell from her and Gandalf started to mutter, Emma smiled smugly at the ancient Elf lord. “What the dwarves can give back to the world. That is a really nice thought, _lord_ Celeborn. One that I completely concur with.” At this point everyone was staring at her, still tense about what was to come, but also surprised by her words. “And so that is what I shall do. And because it was you that gave me the idea, I will start with your neighbours in Khazad-Dum.”

From the corner of her eye Emma saw Balin smiling at that thought, as he had been wanting to retake Moria for once and for all a long time, but the rest of the people gathered at the table were less happy with that prospect.

“Ha, you had us there!”  Gandalf exclaimed, hoping that making it sound like a joke would rescue the proceedings of the afternoon, but Emma got up, looking furiously at Galadriel’s husband. “You come into my husband’s halls, accusing him of common thievery and then think you can tell _me_ what to do?! Do you even _know_ what it is that you ask? Do you know what is behind the walls of the Grey Hills?! Thranduil here knows, his wife died there. Rykar knows, he has seen it. But you?” She scoffed. “You don’t know of what you speak. If you stay hidden inside your woods all he time, you cannot see how the world changes, and you have clearly missed a lot.”

She was seething at the end of her speech, leaning on the table with her free hand and looking rather hatefull. For a moment, no one did anything, even Mellin seemed to stare at his mother in astonishment. Thorin didn’t tell her to calm down and Celeborn didn’t respond. But then Elrond got up and walked over to Shana, taking Stone from her. Panic flashed over Emma’s face, unable to hide it, and Thorin was already getting up, untill he walked over to her and put her firstborn in her free arm, softly pushing on her shoulder so she would sit.

“You ask what it is you will gain from this, Selde, and it is a just question. Moria would surely gain you more on the short term, everyone knows it is the only place where the mythril you love so much can be found. But on the long term, it is Gundabad that will offer the most profit. The kindom you will leave to your second born will be safer, so he won’t have to fight as much as he would if Gundabad was still an orc stronghold. And after a couple of years, the grounds beyond the mountains will be fertile again, so he won’t have to trade for food.”

She knew what he was doing, trying to use her weaknesses against her. But she had one advantage: she actually knew exactly what she was speaking of. “They don’t have the power to break through walls, nor will they in the coming age. And we have acquired enough lands to sustain ourselves starting next year. Don’t we, uncle Rykar?”

Elrond should have known that it was always easier for children to hurt their parents than the other way around, and that Emma had a bit of a cruel, yet subtle, streak when it came to that. Naming her stepfather’s brother ‘uncle’ had shown him yet again, and it could have been the opening of a really interesting game of chess.

 “Aye, we do, Emma.” The familiar use of her first name by her army commander underlined their connection once again, subtlely, but clear enough for Elrond.

The elf lord now had to decide what to do: letting go of matter for the sake of their relationship, or pressing her further so she would cave against her will. It was important, the taking of Gundabad, but as he saw her sitting there, holding her two children of whom she was so protective, he believed that small piece of happiness to be of greater importance.

“Then we can only ask you to do it for the sake of all of us, Emma, as it is sure that that cesspole will cause trouble once the dark lord rises.” He graciously said, sitting back down in his chair again.

Galadriel sensed the presence of the undercurrents, but she could not put her finger on what exactly was going on. What she did know was that this was the time to salvage this meeting, after the damage her husband and her former son in law had done. But she had to tread carefully, as Emma seemed to be on edge somehow. She thought about it briefly, and then decided to take the gamble, guessing the outcome would be in her favour.

“What did your brother say about this matter, Emma?’ She asked with a kind smile.

“Which one?” Came the reply, though it was clear that Emma knew whom she was referring to.

“Melo.” She answered simply, knowing that anymore would be seen as trying to win Emma’s graces by flattering the memory of her late brother.

Emma tilted her head slightly and smiled. “Melo was always the adventurous one. And he saw this as a whole new challenge.”

“And did he believe he could succeed?”

“Yes.” Emma paused a bit, and chewed her cheek. “If his army would also join.”

Galadriel looked confused, and Thorin frowned deeply before shaking his head. “You’re not going, Emma. It is out of the question”

“What do you mean, ‘his army’, Emma?” Gandalf cut in, not liking being uninformed.

Emma nodded her head and Rykar stepped forward. “The Grey Hills have two armies: a regular one and the royal one. The first one is lead by me, the second one only takes commands from the royal they have sworn their allegiance to. Gundabad cannot be taken by one of them seperately, it is too well positioned. But with combined forces, it is possible.”

“No.” Thorin and Elrond said simultaneously, the first one very decisive, the other one with more doubt in his voice.

And so it became clear for the council: Gundabad coud not be taken without Emma going there, or by adding their own forces to her army. But they knew they didn’t have enough experienced men to start a guerilla war in unknown mountain territory; they were at a stand still.

Thranduil hadn’t said anything during the whole meeting, only throwing glances at Emma and her necklace when he thought Thorin didn’t see. But now he sat leaned back in his chair, one forearm on the armrest and one lightly holding a cup if wine. “If you don’t want to lead your forces yourself, why don’t you let someone else do it?” He said languidly, a smirk smirk ghosting over his lips.

Emma was chewing in her cheek as she thought about what he said. This time not in uncertainty, but in annoyance. And when she looked at Thranduil he minutely raised his eyebrow and  lifted his cup a bit. Others did not notice it, but she knew that he knew the impact of what he had said, and found it quite amusing. Most likely he did it because she was wearing a necklace set with stones he believed were his, she thought while clenching and unclenching her teeth. But knowing from where his motives stemmed did not help her out of this predicament. Because he had publically proposed that she let someone else take control of _her_ army, she couldn’t just say she wouldn’t. They would think she did not trust anyone with the task, not even her husband.

In reality, there were more reasons. First, she actually didn’t trust anyone to do the job, not even Thorin. Second, she didn’t _want_ him to do it, as she did not want him to leave her and their boys. And third, well, thirdly it was a matter of pride; it was _her_ army, so she should lead.

“I suggest we take a break so I can deliberate with my advisors.” She said while getting up, carefully balancing so she wouldn’t disturb her sons that had fallen asleep on her arms, completely unaware of the world-changing decisions that were being taken.


	28. Fear V

“They are very adorable.”

Elrond looked up at his former mother in law, and his scowl was replaced by an adoring smile. “They really are. And did you know this was, as far as I know, the first time they were ever being fussy? Normally they are so well behaved. And they can look at you so serious, like they know every secret of this world.”

He wanted to go on and on, but when he saw Galadriel’s expression he understood her remark was just an opening to a conversation she wanted to have, and not a kind remark or genuine appreciation for the latest additions to his family. That had always been his problem with her, though it had never bothered him as much as it did now. But he did not say anything about it; he never had and he didn’t think this would be a good time to start. Instead, he just stopped talking and looked at her.

“She is very protective of them.”

He just nodded, understanding of where she was going dawning on him.

“You may have damaged our cause by dragging them into the conversation.”

Elrond scoffed. “If there is one thing I am sure about, it is that it was not I but your husband that derailed the conversation.”

“Yes.”Galadriel sighed deeply. “It was – unwise to believe he wouldn’t have projected his anger over past occurances on the present dwarves. But you aggravated the situation.”

Elrond clenched and unclenched his fists. “My grandsons are not and will never be chesspieces for you to play around with, Galadriel. You will not treat them the way you are treating my daughter right now.” He said through gritted teeth.

In reality, he knew very well that it hadn’t been wise to speak about her sons to Emma. She would have perceived it as a threat, or as him using her sons as leverage. But it hadn’t been like that; he really believed what he had said.

 

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“Are you alright, Emma?”

They had just put Stone and Mell to sleep, and she had lingered in the doorway a bit, looking at her sleeping sons. Thorin had come to stand behind her, his arms wrapped around her waist. It was a moment of calm in the storm, and she had learned to enjoy these moments as well as she could.

“They see them as my weakness.” She whispered back. “They want to use them.”

The grip around her tightened, and she felt herself being enveloped in the strong hard muscles of his chest and arms. “We won’t let them, azyungal. They can only take what you are willing to give. And if they want more, then be assured that I am here.”

That was the one thing she wanted to hear, a confirmation of his ability and willingness to protect her and her children, and she turned around to him and pressed a soft kiss on his lips.When he responded in kind, she intensified the kiss, suddenly desperate for that physical connection to him. If Thorin was surprised by it, he didn’t show it. Instead he closed the door, careful to avoid making any noise that would wake up his sons and ruin the moment, and pressed her against the wall, kissing her hungrily while pulling down the bodess of her dress.

When it was down far enough for her nipple to be out, he first ran the pad of his thumb over it before bending down and taking it in his mouth. It evoked a sigh that turned into a moan from Emma, and before he knew it she hoisted up the skirt of her dress and pulled down her underwear.

She started to loosen the lacing on his breaches, and somehow, through his haze of lust, he managed to think about the people that were coming to their appartment for a meeting. And that this possibly wasn’t the most perfect timing for the particular activity they were about to engage in.

But when he told her so, she pulled up her skirt and pushed down her underwear a little further, and wrapped her left leg around his waist and pulled him closer to her, her arms around his neck, and all his objections were forgotten. She just wanted this, _needed_ this, more than anything right then and there. It was like her body wanted to make up for all the months they didn’t have this physical closeness.

With one hand tangled into her hair and the other holding up her leg, he slowly entered her, exhaling loudly while doing so. He had wanted to go slow at first, but she tilted her hips and pushed on his ass with her foot to make him go the rhytm she wanted, and before long her gasps turned into exhilerating moans that spurted him on. He lifted her up a bit, so she was positioned perfectly for him to go faster and her head swung forwards, softly sucking and nipping on his neck.

“Faster” she whispered “Harder”, before moaning his name.

And she pressed her foot tighter against his ass, urging him to drive into her deeper.

She finished before he did, her body going limp in his arms but her inner muscles clamping around him like a vice.

“Em—ah—fu—I—Em—Fuck!” he groaned out, beads of sweat running down the side of his face, as he too came.

He had to put her down, his muscles suddenly aching from the effort while other parts of him ached in the most delicious way. They stumbled to the bed, and both fell down on it, still breathing heavily.

 

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She looked around at the people gathered at the table. It was a mismatched group, but she knew these were the only people that would advice her for her good, and not theirs. First there was Elrohir, almost towering over everyone else because of his own hight and the added hight of his larger chair. Then her unle Rykar, polished up, dressed in his finest clothes and wearing his most expensive jewelry and beads to show everyone the wealth of the Grey Hills, Next to him was Edur, the general of her army. He was the complete opposite of Rykar, clothing and hair wise. He looked rugged and rough, as if he had been camping in the wild for the past year. Which was very possible, as her army hadn’t been on offiial missions ever since they swore allegiance to her, so he probably had taken on the task of keeping his men trained.

And next to her, was Thorin off course. She had doubted whether he should be here, as technically he wasn’t impartial in this matter. But she somehow knew he wouldn’t knowingly give her bad advice just to gain something for himself, so he was here.

Rykar smiled at her smugly, and when she looked at him questioningly, he grinned. “Come spring, we’re gonna make the grounds of Middle Earth tremble.”

She lifted her eyebrows as a sign for him to continue, but he frowned and looked at Elrohir **”The elf is not of our own, niece. He’ll blab it right back to that group of self-important, silver-haired idiots that is waiting for us.”**

A spark of anger ignited when she heard him talk about her relatives, but it cooled down soon, understanding where his feelings came from. **”He won’t.”** she curtly said, and her uncle knew to continue.

“We’ll do it all. We’ll take Gundabad _and_ Khazad-Dum at the same time, and the world will know our might.”

Edur nodded along with this, very pleased with the plan. Clearly he and Rykar had already discussed it, and made it up together. And it did seem like an exciting prospect, getting both the orc strongholds. But it didn’t solve the question of leadership. Before she could voice her thoughts, Thorin already did it for her.

“And who will lead these expeditions? My wife certainly isn’t!”

Thorin would accept a lot, but he would under no circumstance allow his wife to actually lead an army into war. It just was a bridge too far.

“It’ll be a joined operation.” Edur barked, his signature way of communicating due to a life long in the army. “Rykar here will lead his men and half my army into Gundabad, while you and I take the other half and parts of your army into Moria, your highness.”

On first glance it seemed like a good plan, but he had forgotten Thorin had already fought at Khazad-Dum once, and the losses he had faced there were too great to repeat that experience. Yet the king of Erebor did not show how he felt, he only shook his head.

“If it will happen, it will be other way around.”

Rykar and Edur whipered for a few moment, clearly deciding on their stand on this suggestion, and then they nodded. “So it will be.”

But what would seem like a grand plan for glory, didn’t provide for future plans. “And what is we succeed? Gundabad will just be taken in as a province of the Grey Hills, but what about Khazad-Dum, what are we going to do about it?” Emma asked.

And again Rykar smiled smugly. “It will make you rich without having to do anything. I have spoken to his majesty’s advisor, and he was already making plan to retake it. Foolish plans that would never work, but plans nonetheless. So he’ll get it and rule it, but give you a percentage of annual minings, and oaths of feilty without you being obligated to anything.”

Emma smiled. Things were starting to look better and better.

 

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The White Council wasn’t as happy as expected when they heard the dwarves would take care of business, though that probably was because they were flat out refused when hey asked about their exact plans.

But Emma cared little. Her brother’s plan was being carried out, that was all that mattered.


	29. Change I

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So sorry for the long delays lately! Work is really busy, and on top of that I have started to rework the forst part of this series as the quality of writing is really starting to annoy me! For good news: I have a four week holiday coming up in three weeks, and I intend to finish this part of the series then and perhaps even start of the third and final part :)

After having asked two times that evening, Thorin felt moderately assured that there was nothing wrong with his wife. Yet, the way she sat up in bed and kept throwing him glances somehow gave him the feeling something was the matter. So with a groan he also sat up against the headboard and looked back at her.

When her glares turned even darker, he put his arm around her and pulled her to sit between his legs, her back resting against his chest. She had crossed her arms in front of her chest, and from the tenseness of her muscles he could sense he was actually getting angry. A little searching of his memory made him see what it probably was.

“I will not lie to you and tell you I’m sorry, Emma. But I do understand you’re upset.”

She turned her upper body and looked up at him with knitted brows. “Really? And what am I upset about?”

He pressed a kiss on her temple. “I know you wanted to go yourself, but I cannot let you, azyungal. What if something were to happen to you? What about our boys?”

Her brow furrowed even deeper and her eyes turned dark. “That is _not_ why I am upset, Thorin. I don’t want to go there, but I don’t want you to either. And you just _took_ my army,w ithout even talking to me about it.”

He hadn’t even thought about that. All he had heard was Emma’s interest in the plan and Rykar and Edur suggesting he would lead her army. That she might object to the idea had not crossed his mind. He had merely wanted to give her what she desired, perhaps make up for the past. And that was exactly what he told her.

She pretended to still be upset, keeping her arms crossed over her chest and grumbling a bit, but from the tension seeping out of her back he knew he was mostly forgiven. So he started to run his hand through her hair, cherishing it strand by strand. He knew she did not enjoy her hair being played with as much as he did, but she started to enjoy his attention again.

Yet, there were still things standing between them, things he wanted to disuss with her, though he wasn’t sure if it was the right time, or if it was wise to ever discuss it. But just like Emma had been unable to ask him if he wanted to talk about what happened in Rivendel, he was unable to hold his tongue about this.

“What we—eeeh—spoke about this morning, are you sure about it?” He started, his voice a low rumble due to his hesitance.

Emma sat up a bit and turned her neck to look at him. “What do you mean, Thorin?” She asked, her expression making it clear she actually did not know what he was speaking about.

“I speak of us having another child. Well, more like you having another child. So soon, I mean.”

His stammering didn’t really help his cause, and his wife just looked at him with one raised eyebrow, clearly showing this was not a subject they would be speaking about again. So he cleared his throat and softly pushed her head so she was lying against his chest again. He pulled the blankets up a bit so her legs were covered by them, and for a while they just sat like that.

She thought of his words, but could not be absolutely sure why he objected to another child so much. Whenever she saw him with his children, he absolutely doted on them. He did not mind when Stone or Mell would grab his beard and pull with so much strength that sometimes she was afraid they would pull the braid loose from his face. But he carefully pryed it from their little fingers and distracted them with something else. And when Ferin had started to take his first, insecure, steps, he would patiently help him wherever the little boy wanted to go. So why object to another one? It was not like he wouldn’t be able to feed more mouths or arrange more marriages.

And as she rested against his chest without him making moves leading to something more, she forgot the previous night and afternoon and started to worry about what he thought of her. Subconsciously she wrapped her arms tighter around herself, as if she wanted to protect herself from his eyes. She believed him to think the way she had changed to be ugly, as she thought that of herself.

Thorin noticed the sudden tension in her, just as she had started to relax in his arms, and he brought his hand up to stroke her upper arm. But as he did, she only tensed up more. He wanted to groan outloud as yet again something seemed to be wrong. After all these months, years even, he just wanted to be able to have some peace and quiet in his marriage. The animosity, fighting and what not started to exasperate him, and he shifted in place.

“What is it, Emma?” he asked, trying to keep the annoyance he felt from his voice.

And as he had expected another hostile response, her soft tone surpised her. “Do you still like the way I look?”

He did not know what to say for a moment. Not liking her appearance was the most absurd thing anyone could conjure. But when he had shaken off the confusion he held her tighter for a moment and then started to run his hand up and down her sides.

“Tell me what _you_ don’t like, and then I’ll tell you what I think of it.” he murmered.

He felt his wife sigh deeply, and then whispering so softly that he had difficulty hearing her. “Everything.”

He chuckled at the uncharacteristic response. Normally she had no problem telling him exactly what was the matter, but this seemed to be a little more sensitive.

Emma felt him starting to unbutton her nightgown, opening the small satin buttons one by one and revealing more and more of her flawed body. She loved her sons, but her pregnancy had wreaked havoc on most of her, leaving her blemished. Last night she had felt compelled to show herself to him, believing his forgiveness should be repayed. But now she felt more insecure, and she tried to keep herself covered by the ample fabric of her gown. He did not let her. He pulled the fabric from her hands, making her feel they were like small children but holding on to a toy they did not want to share. But he won that battle, and before long he opened her gown completely, leaving her naked before him. It reminded her somewhat of their wedding night, when he had opened her dressing gown so he could look at her. But she had been a lot more nervous and hesistant then, though the feeling of awkwardness was not much different.

Thorin  got away from behind her, leaving her sitting against the headboard, and sat on his knees in front of her. He started with her calves, rubbing them firmly and then more up to her thighs. “Your legs haven’t changed, kurdu. I still love seeing them and love the thought of them around me even more.”

He brought his head more upwards, leaving a trail of soft pecks on her sensitive skin. But when he was at the apex of his thighs, he went past it and ran the pad of thumb down from her sternum to just above her hipbone. ““I suppose most of your complaints regard you belly. Let me start by saying you still do not have a fat belly, ghivashel, though I have to be frank and admit it has gotten a little rounder. But honestly, I like it better this way.” Again he kissed her, leaving no reachable spot of her stomach untouched by his lips while his hands softly stroked hr breasts, sending shivers through her body that made her nipples pucker and stand out.

“Look at your breasts, azyungal.” He said after a while, and he waited untill she actually looked down at her chest. “It is true that they have gone down a little, I will not lie to you and tell you they are exactly the same. But also look at our boys. They are happy and healthy, because you have fed them. That is what I see. And besides, no one sees it when you are dressed.”

She nearly giggled a the airy tone he said his last sentence, but her husband wasn’t done yet. He crawled further up, her legs between his, and he started kissing her lips. It wasn’t a demanding kiss, full of lust, but it was passionate and loving. They had never done this, kissing for so long and not do anything else. But this time, despite the evident signs of his want, he gave no indication that he wanted more. When she started  to move beneath him, he lied down next to her.

“My attraction to you will never end, amralime.” He whispered while looking into her eyes.

Emma frowned. “Then why do you not want more children?”

Now it was her husband’s turn to be confused. “What does that have to do with me liking your body?”

“Because you are afraid I will get even more ugly!” She nearly shouted out in frustration, a feeling that got even stronger when he started to laugh wholeheartedly.

“That has nothing to do with it, love.” He said when his laughter had died down a bit. “But it has everything to do with not wanting to lose you and not wanting you to be in pain. I do not want to see you hurt to give birth, and I fear you might not survive a second delivery.”

His tone had gotten serious, a stark contrast to the mirth he had shown not seconds earlier, and he blew out the candles next to their bed, and pulled her into an embrace, with his strong arms around her and her back against his muscular chest.

“if you insist, I will not deny you. But I urge you to think of it more. Or consult a healer.”


	30. Change II

Fili and Sigrid had managed to stay not one week, but two inside their rooms, probably happy to be able to stay away from the crazyness that was Erebor’s court for as long as possible. Yet this morning they would join the whole family for breakfast, as per Thorin’s request.

Emma had thought long and hard about what to do with Jessa, and in the end it had been Elrond’s words that had made her make the decision she had told Thorin last night. If she was wrong, and Jessa knew nothing about Durer’s plans, she would be stealing a child from it’s mother, and that was something she could not push herself to do, not even in Jessa’s case.

So she had told Thorin that Jessa could stay in Erebor, on the condition she would not be coming to court and would be staying away from Emma and all the other royals. After several moments Thorin had asked how she felt about Ferin being present, but she found she rather liked the boy; he would be a nice playmate to Stone and Mell. But she had demanded he would write a sealed preclamation in which he would state that Ferin could never inherit the throne as long as Thorin, his sons or his sister-sons were still alive. Unsurprisingly he had also agreed to that.

Yet now he had called the whole family together for breakfast in the royal chambers, including Elrond and his sons. It was a bit odd, normally they had breakfast with the two of them or in the dining hall. But she had not asked about the purpose of this meeting, too busy saving her ada’s hair from the greedy little fists of her sons.

He had tried to apologize for his comments during the meeting with the White Council, but she had known he acted out of pure motives all along. His approach had just been uncharacteristically clumsy. Sometimes she thought that becoming a mother had made her soft, forgiving those that had wronged her so easily, but perhaps she had just been too hard before.

 

 ********************************************************************************************************************************

 

“Well, Fili, Sigrid, good to have you here.” Thorin said, a bit uncomfortable adressing a subject that would imply his nephews ‘bedroom activities’. Sigrid seemed to have the same sentiments, as she blushed while being adressed Thorin and focussed on staring at her empty plate.

That last thing was remedied quickly, as the servants came in and set all the breakfast dishes on the table, almost straining the heavy oakwood under the weight of all the food. And for a while, everyone busied themselves with loading their plates to their liking and filling their bellies, while Stone and Mell managed to keep Emma, Elrond and Elrohir busy feeding them.

When plates started to empty and people sat back in their chairs, Emma looked at Thorin questionningly. He still hadn’t given any indication of his purpose of this get together, and she didn’t believe he had everyone come here just for the fun of it. He answered her look with a short nod, and then scraped his throat.

“Lately more and more people have believed it their place to meddle in the affairs of the royal family.” He started, and then paused, presumably for either a dramatic effect or to let the words sink in. “That will not happen again. I will not tolerate it if any of you speak of Erebor business to outsiders, and I certainly will not accept it if members of this family plot against eachother.”

Everyone just looked at him for a moment, some not understanding what he meant, others waiting for what was to come.

“Eeerm, what do you mean by that, uncle?” Kili said, breaking the tensed silence.

“It means, Kili, that none of you will invite people that are known to have grudges against royals. It means that our business will stay inside of this corridor and not be spread around Erebor like fire.” Thorin said impatiently.

“Why don’t you tell us what you really mean, Thorin.” Dis cut in, her tone just taunting enough to raise her brother’s temper.

“Jessa will not be coming here anymore, and you had better watch your mouth when you speak to her!” he said through clenched teeth. It was a sensitive subject, his ex-mistress, and having to speak of it in front of family was not making it easier.

Dis should have known this was the time nor the place to gainsay Thorin’s words, but just like him she had a temper that was difficult to reign in. “You cannot—“ She started, only to be interrupted.

“Fili, tell your amad what I can and cannot do before I do it myself!” Thorin barked out.

The tension in the room was so thick is was palpable, with Thorin and Dis glaring at eachother, Fili shifting uncomfortably in his chair, Emma looking at her husband and her sister in law and the rest of the attendees staring at their plate or pretending to be busy with Stone and Mell.

It was too much to handle for Sigrid. Dwarves were used to discussions like these, and even the elves of Rivendel quarreled from time to time, but she came from a family where differences of opinion were handled with soft spoken conversations and rules were enforced with explanations. So she had no experience whatsoever with arguements such as this, and she couldn’t hold back her tears. With a small sob she swiftly got up from the table and ran back to the chambers she shared with Fili.

“Damned uncle, did you have to?!” Fili cursed loudly before following her.


	31. Gundabad I

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I added two chapters tonight, so if you haven;t read about a very awkward breakfast, make sure to read the previous chapter first.
> 
> Now, fast forward three years, as I am horrible at writing anything having to do with battles and such, and be prepared for a major cliffhanger!
> 
> P.s. Yes, the song is almost literally plagiarised from the title sons of highlander. Why be satisfied with my own very mediocre poems when a fitting one is already out there ;)  
> By the way, what do you all think of the show Highlander? I am still not sure if it is an adventure series and I like it, or if it is an adaptation of the well known 'romance novels' and I loathe it......

_“Sing me a song of a lass that is gold_

_Say, could that lass be mine?_

_Merry of soul she danced through the world_

_The highlands to lead her feet”_

_“Billow and breeze, highlands and seas_

_Mountains of rain and sun_

_All that was good, all that was fair_

_All that was her is mine”_

While the others all clapped and sang along with the soldier that managed to cheer them up with his deep voice and sentimental songs, he could only think of his own ‘golden lass’. In any other situation it would have been a bit rediculous to describe Emma as a golden lass, but now, on this relatively calm evening, he just wanted to. He wanted to feel sentimental and he wanted to feel like there was a woman waiting for him with a home cooked meal and welcoming arms, just like everyone else.

For three, long, hard years he had been in this hell on earth, and all the deaths he had seen fell under his responsability. He was their leader, for some their king, but sometimes he wished he was just a soldier whoms lass waited for him at home as soon as he was finished following orders instead of giving them.

He got himself another cup of ale and sat back down, staring into the fire as if it could give him the answers he so desperately needed.

When they left over two years ago, they had truly made the grounds of Middle Earth tremble, as Rykar had promised Emma. ‘Two months, three at the most’, the soldiers had said to eachother , ‘and we’ll come back as the heroes that have rid the world of that orc scum’.

Looking back, their optimism had been utterly naive. The orcs had been no match for their superior skills and weaponry of course, but every meter of lands they won was hard fought. These blasted mountains were full of caves, crevices and other places where small bands of the scum could hide and fight a dirty guerilla war. And he was leading dwarves, used to the courge and prowess of meeting their enemies in the open field, not falling back on dirty war techniques.

He sighed. They should have retreated  long time ago and told the elves to fix their own damn problems, but they didn’t. He wondered if it was pride, or his desire to give Emma what she wanted. He suspected it was the latter, as he had been so maddingly unable to do anything for her before he left.

She had been pregnant soon after she had told him she wanted to despite his misgivings. A girl, she had told him, and he had no doubt whatsoever that she was right. But just as Oin had warned him, her body had been unable to carry a pregnancy so shortly after the previous. So one morning, even before the sun was up, he was woken by her soft moans and had found her writhing a pool of blood, helplessly holding on to her belly.

He had lost a lot in life, but he had always been able to find a way to better his situation. Yet back then, he had felt completely impotent. And no matter how much furniture he had thrown around in the dining hall or how hard he had pounded onto his opponents in the practice ring, it hadn’t changed the fact that his wife was lying in their bed, bleeding out their baby and there was nothing he could do about it.

A week later he had left for war, and now he was sitting here, subconsciously playing with one of the ribbons she sealed her letters to him with. They were both a comfort and a stab to his heart, those parchments he received irregularily. She informed him of the wellbeing of his sons and relatives, telling him little stories of how they ate solid food for the first time, took their first steps and said their first words. Of how Sigrid had her first and then her second child, both boys whoms names he had forgotten.   Of how Lind was starting school and Kili couldn’t help but check in every day on how she was doing.

But what she did not write about, and he desperately craved for, was herself. Nothing on how she was doing or how she was feeling. And nothing about how she felt about him. He heard other soldiers read the letters they got from home outloud, emphasising on the parts where their girls wrote of how they missed them. But nothing of the such for him. No words of how her heart was empty and her bed cold.

He wondered what it would be like when he came home again, changing from the bloodied rock of Gundabad to the crispy white sheets of their bed. One never knew with Emma. She might still be angry for losing the baby, at him or at herself and thentaking it out on him. Or she might actually be happy to have him back, having missed him but not being able to trust those words to paper.

He sighed. It was no use thinking of it now. Tomorrow they would try to take the largest, and last, stronghold in Gundabad, and if that went well most of them could go home. If.

The camp followers were starting to annoy them, their silly giggles only emphasising there was nothing innocent about them. Girls that had fallen to poverty, with no man to give them shelter and food. And so they sold the only thing they had: themself.

He looked to his left at Dwalin, ready to order him to send the girls away. But he found his cousin and friend staring at one of them. Not so much with lust, but with some fascination he could not explain.

Dwalin must have felt his gaze at him, and he looked back before acerting his eyes again.

“Dina sent you many letters?”  He asked

His cousin took a large gulp of ale and then waved at one of the women to fill his cup again. He had seen the bottom of it many times already, as he did every night before a battle for as long as Thorin had known him.

“No.” He finally grunted in response when his newly refilled cup was emptied half again.

There was something odd about it, so Thorin raised his eyebrows in question, knowing ale made his cousin’s tongue loose.

Dwalin scoffed. “Balin made our match.” He started, adding: “With the best intentions of course.”

“But?” Thorin asked, leaning back in his chair a bit, knowing an interesting story was to come.

“But she isn’t my One and I’m certainly not hers.” There was another pause for Dwalin to finish his drink again and having it refllled, this time taking the pitcher from the woman that served him.

“She had found hers.” Dwalin laughed humorless. “One of your scribes.”

Thorin sucked in his breath through his teeth. It was the nightmare of every arranged marriage: one of the partners finding their One while married to another.

“Your son?” He carefully asked, fearing what might come.

“Mine” came the utterly sure response. “She found him about a year before we left. And now we have an arrangement. She can do as she likes, as long as she won’t be getting a child from it. And when the times comes that I want another child, she will have to be mine for a while again.”

It was the most rational, mature solution Thorin had ever heard for fixing the woes of arranged marriage. But it did not sound like his cousin.

“And you?” he asked.

“It is what it is. I may be the saddest excuse for a man that has ever lived, so easily letting my wife have another, but it is what it is.”

There was so much self-loathing hidden in the roughly spoken words, that Thorin put his arm around his cousin’s shoulder. “Sad as the situation may be, there is nothing to reproach you for. And you are not the only man to forgive such actions, trust me.”

Dwalin sat up and looked t his cousin, king, and almost brother with disbelief. “Emma?”

Thorin nodded. “Once. But perhaps even now, as I only hear about others form her, nothing about herself.”

“You wish your wife to write to you about her everlasting love for you? Or would you like to hear more about her carnal desire for none other but you?” Dwalin asked with mockery in his voice. “Then you should have married that minx of a consort of yours, because your wife will never write you those things! You can’t turn blushing virgings into wanton whores!” Dwalin laughed roughly and clapped Thorin on the back.

It was not something Thorin wanted to think about, marrying his former consort. There had been times where he had wondered if would not be better to divorce Emma and marry Jessa, especially after that desastrous trial de day after Durin’s day, a time where he had been enchanted by his firstborn; his _bastard_. But he hadn’t, and mostly he was thankful for that. Physically shivering to get rid of his thoughts, he turned back to Dwalin and his problems.

“And you? Have you found your One?”

Dwalin pulled up the corner of his mouth in reemblance of a smile, but he did not succeed in convincing Thorin it was actually funny. “Aye. But if ever there was a woman that is out of my reach, it is her.”

While Dwalin started drinking directly from the pitcher, Thorin frowned. With his position, wealth and connections, there weren’t many women out of his reach. Except perhaps for those that had already found their One and couldn't be swayed by wealth or position. It was most intrigueing….

“Who is she then, and why won;t she have you?” he asked, poking Dwalin in the shoulder.

Dwalin snickered, and with drowsy eyes he looked straight at Thorin. “ _She_ would be your sister. Dumbest thing I have ever done, letting her get married to that bastard.”


	32. Gundabad II

In hindsight, it was this moment that things were starting to turn sour. For when Dwalin confessed his feelings for his king’s sister, Thorin jumped up and hit him square on his nose, the sound of breaking bone only spurring him on to hit again, and again and again. It was only when Thorin started going for his stomach that Dwalin hit back, splitting his friend’s lip.

A little later, Thorin and Dwalin sat angrily by the fire, while Nori and Bofur were sitting between them in an attempt to keep them apart. They looked at eachother questionningly, neither of them knowing what the fight was about, and Thorin nor Dwalin was very talkative about it.

A confession of mere feelings, without any ‘action’ involved would normally not lead to this. It could lead to negotiations of bride prices, it could lead to plain denial, and anything in between. But not a fight, especially not between cousins, distant as they might be. But Thorin wasn’t himself, and hadn’t been for quite a while.

It was exactly that, that Dwalin was thinking about. Ever since the first major battle, Thorin had been acting a bit off. He somehow had distanced himself form everything and everyone, as if there was a glass wall between him and the world.

Dwalin did not much care for his broken nose and some cuts and bruises, it was nothing he hadn’t had before and they would heal, he cared for what was going on. Yet no answer would come that night. Thorin, having had enough of everyone staring at them, softly whispering and guessing what the fight had been about, gruffly ordered it was time to go to sleep.

 

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She missed him so much it almost physically hurt, and it made her feel uncomfortable in her own skin. She felt this way everytime he left, and when he returned he was both extatic and fearing the next he would leave.

It had always been like this, from the first time she had met him. He made her back shiver and her skin crawl. He made her stomach turn and her brain stop functioning. But most of all, he warmed her heart to a point she would turn liquid beneath his gaze.

In his presence, she felt like  better version of herself. A version that wasn’t always irritated. A version that could love unconditionally, like she loved her sons. But it was never to be; he would never be hers and she wouldn’t be his. He was already married and she was supposed to be a respectable widow.

There had been hope, when she was younger. For a year or so she had let herself believe they would be able to marry, and in her fantasies they rode off into the sunset like those knights and ladies in the fairytales of Men. She had been pretty back then, a jewel amongst the dwarves with a voice like a nightingale.

The moment her dreams were crushed was seared into her memory:

_“I have found a match for you, Dis.” Her grandfather had told her when she had answered his summon to come to her chambers. Thror had been sitting there, with her father next to him. They both looked at her with smiling faces, and somehow she had taken that as a sign she would wed the one she wanted._

_“Who?’ She had asked breathlessly, but with a beaming smile._

_A smile that had faltered when she heard her grandfather speak the name of her husband. ‘Nehili’._

_He came from the Iron Hills, a cousin of Dain’s father, with an impressive family line that ran all the way back to Durin the Deathless. One like them. And a title and wealth of course. Fit for a princess of Erebor._

_The tears ran from her eyes without her being able to stop them. It had made her father doubt and her grandfather irritated. Even then he had placed the accumulation of more weath before the happiness of those he called kin._

_Without another word, she had left her grandfather’s chambers, throwing herself on her bed and crying into her pillow. When she had calmed herself, she had gone to her father, begging him to stop this match. But he hadn’t. Not even when Thorin had started a fight with both his sire and his grandsire, was their decision turned back. Later she learned that at that point, the contracts had already been signed._

It had been a bad match from the beginning. Due to his lustfullness and preference for ales and wines, he was the black sheep of his wealthy family. A family that had hoped he would change his ways when he lived amongst the royals of Erebor. So they had urged them to live in her ancestral home instead of with them, as would be tradition.

But the change of scenery had not changed his ways. On the contrary, he had found a whole new kingdom to divert him. Dis sighed. It ws no use thinking of it now. The alcohol had proved to be his ending, and he only left her with two good things: her sons.

She turned back to the good things her sons had given her in their turn: her grandchildren. Lind was quietly playing with her dolls in front of the fire, and both Bali and Fain were sleeping in their cribs. He remembered the times she had sat like this when her own sons were younger. Nehili had already gone Waiting when Kili was born, and she had found herself many a night staring at his legacy.

Fain mewled softly, and immediately Lind got up and peered over the edge of the crib.

“Will he soon wake up, khagun?’ She asked. She wasn’t old enough to learn or understand Khuzdul, but she picked up a few words, reciting them with the flaws that were so adorable in little children. So Dis’ official title to the girl, Gamul Khagun, grandmother, was bastardized to Khagun. She did not mind.

She had found that where her prejudices were strong towards her daughters in law, they were non-existant towards her grandchildren.

“I think he will, mizi. Shall we feed him together? You can hold him and I’ll hold the bottle.”

Her little jewel nodded happily and clambered onto her lap. “Can we visit Stone and Mell after?” She asked when she was sitting comfortable after a lot of wiggling and squirming.

Dis’ face clouded. When Emma had first come, she thought she might like the girl. But as time passed, she had seen the influence she had on _her_ brother. The one person in the world that had always protected her, had always wanted the best for her. That had tried to stand up to her father and grandfather to get her the marriage she wanted.

And then Emma had duped Jessa horribly after what Melo had done, showing the world that nepotism ran freely in Erebor. To top it all off, Emma alligned herself with Dina at that first queen’s council. The council where she hadn’t asked Dis for advice or a formal position, and had favoured Dwalin’s wife.

The wife of the man she had wanted all her life. She did not blame Dina personally for it, the woman had wanted to marry Dwalin even less than Dwalin had wanted to marry her. But still, Dis felt a strong antipathy towards her.

So no, she really did not want to visit Stone and Mell when they were alone with Emma. But when she saw the pleading face of her granddaughter, she knew it could not be helped. Perhaps Ferin and Sima could also come, Lind always seemed to really like the girl Emma had taken in, and with her kind and sweet nature, Sima seemed to a good example to the sometimes headstrong Lind.`


	33. Gundabad III

It was a figment of his imagination, a fantasy brought on by his fatigue, it had to be.

But as he stood on the highest tower of the monstruous stronghold, leaning with his hands on his knees and panting heavily, he saw her cleared than anything else. It was impossible fot this not to be real

She slowly walked over the battlefield, dressed completely in white, covered from neck to feet, face covered by an equally white, tight veil. And if he hadn’t already recognized her by her posture, the signature veil, worn so often before they had married, would have given her away. She looked like one of those angels Men always spoke about, helpers of the gods that were being sent to Arda in times of need.

He ran closer to the window, and screamed with all his might: “EMMA!”

His roar scared his fata morgana away, and he cringed when he realised he had spoken to a hallucination. But no one noticed, as the soldiers in the field thought he screamed her name to honor her, to dedicate their victory to her, and they all roared her name.

 

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They were all standing in a line in front of the entrance to Erebor, waiting to welcome them back. When he had left, she had stood there with two babies in her arms. Now, she stood there with a small boy on either side of her that held on to her hand as if an army of orcs was approaching.

Thinking of it, that was probably what they looked like. Wild men that seemed to have crawled their way out of the mud mere moments ago. He had not wanted to wait for valets or servants to bring him and his army fresh clothes. He wanted to go home and sit in front of his hearth instead of a small fire on the ground.

When he stood in front of her, he did not know what to say, nor what her expression was telling him. He hadn’t seen her for so long, and the way she looked now did not match with anything he remembered her looking like. So he fell back to what he knew best.

He bowed, took her hand and kissed it. “My lady, we have taken Gundabad and Moria for you.”

The tentative smile on her face seemed to fall apart, but she recovered quickly and returned his politeness.

“Stone, Mell, this is your adad. Give him a kiss.” She told his sons.

Hesitantly they did as she said, and he felt two quick, soft pecks simultaneously being placed on his cheeks. He wanted to take all of them into his arms, and glancing at his army, he saw that his fellow soldiers were welcomed in that way; their wives and children throwing themselves around their necks.

But the small bubble he and his family seemed to be in did not feel like such a gesture would be appreciated. So he took Stone’s hand in his and walked into Erebor, to the chambers he had been longing to see in those moments when all that was around him was the depressing darkness of Gundabad.

 

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When he had bathed, washed his hair and put on a fresh attire, they were already waiting for him in the sitting room, a late dinner put on the table for him. He sat down in his chair and put a piece of cheese in his mouth.

“Eat some more, Thorin, you must be hungry.” Emma urged him, pushing a plate of cold meats towards him.

“Later” He said, looking at his family.

Stone and Mell had been observing him in everything he did from behind the skirts of their mother, but now they started to get more bold.

“Amad says you’re really brave.” His heir started, a little more daring than his younger brother.

He smiled a Stone and patted his knee so the boy would sit with him. “Really?” He asked. “And what else did she tell you?”

Now is was Mell’s turn to come out from behind Emma. “She said you’re the best warrior to ever live.” He wispered, his eyes big in awe.

With another pat, Mell was also sitting on his knee, and he kissed both their heads. They had grown so incredibly much, that he had trouble adjusting to the new situation. Emma had of course written of how much they grew and all the things they could do, but that was not the same as seeing it himself.

“Anything else?” He said with a smile.

Stone though for a moment, and then started reciting: “She says we have to respect you, be nice to you, listen to you, learn our lessons and eat our greens.”

He laughed wholeheartedly. The boy obviously tried to remember all the rules his mother had, but his face clearly showed that with regard to lessons and greens, he found it rather nonsense. When he looked at his wife, she was looking at her children fondly, a smile he had never seen before ghosting over her lips.

“Will you tell us about the orcses?” Mell asked with great pent up curiosity.

He hesitated for a moment, wondering if war stories about the scum of the earth were really suitable storymaterial for little children, but then he started. He told them the heroic stories he had heard around the campfires, leaving much of it out and turning it into the fairytales his father had told him and his brother when they were young. Not long after, his sons started to yawn and carefully he got up.

“Let me.” He said softly to his wife, and took his sons to their beds.

When he came back, Emma was in her bedroom, changing to go to sleep. She had looked so royal, so proper when she had been standing in front of those great gates. Wearing a high necked gown and with a rod straight back, he somehow reminded him of his mother, a woman that had endured everything that life had thrown at her. Even now, in a simple night gown, his wife seemed to good for the likes of him. With everything he had seen, everything he had done, she deserved more than him.

“I think I will sleep in my study tonight, sleep well Emma.” He said brusquely.

 

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For a while she just stood in their bedroom, staring at the door he had left through. She did not understand why he had acted so cold, so callous. For three years she had tried to maintain the bond between them, showing him how his family was faring, but it didn’t seem like it had worked.


	34. Durin's Day I

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> yay, another update :)
> 
> I am working on some small side drabbles for this story (of which Ashes and Dust is one), and I was wondering if you, my dearly beloved readers, have any requests. Perhaps you want more insight in a certain relationship, or maybe you want more elaboration on a certain situation. Whatever it is, please (pretty, pretty please) let me know, I would really like some pointers/feedback!

Weeks had passed, and although he had been great with their sons, slowly winning their trust and affection, his behavior towards her had not changed. He had been courteous, of course, but that was not what she wanted. She wanted him to sleep next to her instead of in his study, and she wanted to hear how much he had missed her instead of the polite nothings he said to her. But every evening he bade her a good night and went to sleep in his study.

It was slowly driving her mad, her mind running around in circles and unable to concentrate on anything else. So one evening, after she had been too distracted to coherently have a negotiation with Balin about the rights to Moria, she decided they would talk. Or better yet: he would talk, forced if necessary. So when he had one again wished her a good sleep, she did not lie down in her bed to twist and turn all night, but instead followed him to the bathroom.

Quietly she opened the door, not wanting to start off badly due to scaring him. She saw him sitting against the edge on one of the built in seats, and for a second it seemed like he was asleep. But then she noticed the movement of his shoulder. It took her a moment to realise what he was doing, and once she got it she found herself unable to either leave or make her presence known.

She heard his breathing getting more laboured and then turning into small groans everytime he exhaled. The pace with which he was moving his arm sped up and he threw his head back, leaning it on the edge, and she heard him whisper in lust.

 “Men lananubukhs menu—azyungal—sanazyung!”

When she heard him uttering about a pure love, she couldn’t hold back a gasp. Many things could be said about her, but she knew he wasn’t referring to her. His love seemed to have dissipated, and she knew the endearment ‘sanazyung’ referred to a lover that was clean of heart and pure of soul, seemingly having no flaws and whom was worshipped by any man. An angel embodied. That wasn’t her.

When she gasped, immediately his hands flew out of the water, stopping what he was doing. He turned his head and for a small moment they looked at eachother, both in shock but his features also looking guilty while hers seemed to crumble under the weight of her sadness.

Swiftly she closed the door again and nearly jumped into bed, pulling her blankets over her in some sad attempt to find comfort. What she had dreaded for so long had come true: he had fallen in love with someone else.

He did not come to her that night, and they never spoke of what she had seen and heard, both pretending nothing had happened out of fear of the other’s reaction.

 

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The distance only festered and expanded. And now it was Durin’s day and they were yet again to smile and act as if nothing was wrong in front of the whole nation.

When she was dressed properly and walked into the dining room for breakfast, she saw that Thorin had gifted their sons with small, blunted, gold blades to play with.

“Amad!” they yelled as they ran towards her. “Adad gave us swords so we can win at the tournament later!”

She held her hands up in mock surrender and they ran around her, showing their ‘prowess and battle skills’, pretending to be their adad, which led to a fight about who would be Thorin and who would be his orc victim.

When all had settled down and they could have breakfast, Thorin slid a small, silk wrapping over the table to her. “Choose whatever you like as a present for today. This is just something I brought you back from the Grey Hills.”

It was a stark contrast to the earlier Durin’s Days they had spent together, when he had given her carefully selected presents that he thought would suit her best, but the worst things was that he said his words without even looking at her, and before this moment she had never known how much a single glance from her husband could mean. Slowly she untied the small ribbon holding the fabric together, and when she pushed the silk folds apart, she found a small, dried flower in a glass box. Wild centaury, only found in her homeland. The domesticated type was found here, but the wild kind, with more sharp edges to the small leaves, only grew where she came from.

When she opened the box and held the flower to her nose, she could faintly smell the summers of when she was young and could run through the mountains as much as she wanted. The summers in which he came to visit her and help her pick the flowers and then graciously wear the crowns the made of them in jest while they talked, looking rediculous enough to make them both laugh untill tears ran down their cheeks. She looked up again to thank her husband, but he was already gone, probably to get dressed for the tournament.

 

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“Who will be your champion this year, athumen?” Her husband’s loud voice boomed through the arena.

They were sitting on their thrones on the dais, her father and brothers to the left of the platform, while Thorin was flanked by his nobles to his right, their boys sitting between them.

She looked up from her thoughts. “Who should amad’s champion be?” She asked Stone and Mell. “Who is the best fighter in Erebor besides your adad?”

“Uncle!” they yelled out, nearly jumping up from their seats in excitement.

“Which one? Fili or Kili?” Elladan and Elrohir weren’t competing this year, claiming they wanted to leave it a dwarven affair for once. She did not really believe it, but as the answer to the question as to why they really did not compete wasnt one tha easily popped into her head, she had let it go, too distracted by other things.

The whole kingdom was looking at their crown princes with fondness as they ran to their uncles and looked at them taxating.

“Uncle Fili!” They finally yelled at their mother, and she nodded, so they gave their oldest uncle her embroided hankerchief.

“The princes have spoken, thanumen, it shall be Fili.”

It took a while for the matches to start, as Stone and Mell were of mind to also compete, their new swords ready. In the end, Dwalin had to explain to them they could only enter with an official match sword, and they had to give up when they found themselves to be unable to even lift such a sword. Thorin’s laugh boomed through the arena, and he took his sons on his lap, explaining to them everything that was going on and asking their opinions on several fighters and tactics.

In the end, it turned out that the crown princes had predicted who would win very well, as Fili was the last man standing. He bowed deeply to his aunt and returned her hankerchief. Thorin got up and got ready for the match, and she saw a change in him. Something dark seemed to fall over his face, and even from her position she could she the muscles in his back shifting and standing out more pronounced.

And then it began. Fili had often sparred with his uncle, and they had always both given their best but stayed decent. But this time, Thorin charged at him with all his might and a feral look in his eyes. He hacked away, and Fili had to give it his all to defend himself against the hacking sword of his uncle. The blades might have been blunted, but from experience he knew they could still break bones, if swung hard enough.

Om the royal dais, Dis and Sigrid were getting up from their chairs, clearly anxious about what was happening. Even Dwalin was stepping closer to the arena, clenching his sword a little tighter, ready to intervene if necessary.

It was only when Fili was disarmed and lying on his back, beneath the tip of his uncle’s sword, that Thorin seemed to come to his senses again. Several moments he stood still, his sword pointed at Fili’s neck, but then he pulled it back and offered his nephew his hand to help him get up. Fili looked at him a little strange, and he hesitated before accepting his help.

 

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The dinner and following ball went as they always did, and by the end of it Thorin was starting to get drunk again. So when Dwalin nodded at him, he bade Emma a good night and he left with his cousin and nephews, as he had always done.  He felt the burning gaze of his wife on his back as he left the ballroom, but he did not look back, not wanting to be confronted with his short comings.

He sat back in his chair, gulping down ale and whiskey. Before, the women serving it to them would be part of the party, but now only Dwalin seemed to be mildly interested, himself, Fili and Kili were more than satisfied with just looking at the scantily dressed females as a background to their conversation.

They spoke of Gundabad, about the state affairs of Erebor and as always about the absolute dreadfully boring dinner they had had. But Thorin felt the looks Fili and Kili were throwing eachother, and the glances they threw in his direction.

He felt the familiar rage rising inside of him again, and he clenched the armrests of his chair untill his knuckles went white to keep himself under control.

“Is something the matter with you, uncle?”  Fili finally asked, after having looked at Kili and Dwalin several more times.

“The matter?” He grunted out. “What should be the matter?”

“You’re not yourself and you know it.” Dwalin said. “So out with it, what’s wrong?”

Thorin breathed deeply a few times, and he was about to pour his heart out. Tell them how he felt the dark monster that was his anger waiting just below the surface at every moment of everyday. Of how he was afraid he would no longer be able to control himself, about how he feared he might actually hurt someone.

But just as he opened his mouth, the doors to Dwalin’s chambers flew open and Emma stood in the hallway, looking mightily enraged. With a flick of his hand, Fili sent the girls serving their drinks away and the men looked at their queen.

“So you cannot even bear to _sleep_ next to me, but yet I find you here with half naked women again!” She yelled out and she stepped closer to the men that were sitting completely still in their chairs.

“You seem to find me repulsive but those harlots are exactly to your taste?!”

Fili had not thought such a tiny woman could be so loud, but today Emma proved she was most certainly capable of making herself very well heard.  And then there it was, the sound of flesh hitting flesh, and they saw Emma slapping Thorin across the face.

As if stung by a bee the king of Erebor jumped up and pushed his wife against the wall, holding her there with his hands pressed against the stone on either side of her.

“You want me to take you?” he grunted, his voice rough with pent up anger and agression, and he pulled up one side of her skirts. “You want me to ravish you against this wall for them to see?”

“Uncle!” Kili started when he saw Emma trying to push Thorin away and her skirts down but being utterly unable to do so.

“Out!” his uncle grunted at him, and he repeated himself more loudly when they didn’t move. They still hesitated, especially when Thorin did not seem to notice them anymore, only staring his wife directly into her eyes, his left hand still laying high on her tigh. In the end, Fili and Kili did leave, but Dwalin did not. He was old enough to know that some commands just did not need to be followed, and that this was one of them.

He could almost hear Emma’s fast beating heart, and only several minutes later the stare ended as Emma slid down the wall and sat against it, crying into her arms loudly. Half her skirts were bunched up around her waist, showing her leg up to her bottom, because Thorin had so roughly hoisted them up, and he averted their gaze in discomfort with the whole scene.

“Out” Thorin repeated himself, this time in a more calm and composed tone. When Dwalin did not do as he said a second time, Thorin nearly ran out of the door himself, leaving Emma to friend to take care of.

After a moment’s hesitation, Dwalin sat down next to her and pulled down her skirt a bit. This wasn’t the moment to take advantage and have a long, good look at her ass.

 “What have I done to him, Dwalin?! What have I done to make him act this way?!” She wailed outloud, a desperation he found very uncharacteristic.

He let out a deep sigh, took his pipe out of his pocket and proceeded to put some tobacco in it and smoke it. After a few moments he gave it to her, more in a gesture of comfort than to actually let her smoke it, but to his surprise she took it anyway, inhaling deeply between sobs.

“Tell me honestly, Dwalin, who is she?” Emma finally asked, and instead of the anticipated blanching and stuttered lies, he frowned in a manner that showed he was nearly affronted. But then he sat back against the wall and leaned his head against it. He signed deelply and stared at the ceiling.

“War” he started “has the capability to change a man. Not just physically, but mentally.”

He fell silent for a while after that, as if he had to battle his own feelings and thoughts.

“Thorin has always felt, and still feels, responsible for every death, every injury that occurs under his command. “ He scratched his head and looked down at his feet. “After Moria it came to a point where he believed he did not deserve to get Erebor back, even though that old fool of a grandfather of his concocted the battle.”

Emma opened her mouth to say this had nothing to do with what was going on between Thorin and her, but Dwalin was already ahead of her. “His old doubts are starting to come back again. Whether you love him or just feel obligated to stay with him. He saw almost everyone in our encampment getting letters from home about—well—you know about what.” Emma had to supress a smile when she saw Dwalin’s difficulty with saying such words outloud. On the outside he might seem like a rough bear, but she knew he was a most gentlemanly dwarf.

“And you did not send him those letters” Dwalin continued. “you only wrote about others. So now that old goat has somehow gotten it into his head that he’s not good enough for you or something, I don’t know. “

Dwalin ran his hand through what remained of his hair and then shook his head. “A dark side of him is coming out, Emma, you have seen it yourself this afternoon when he fought FIli. Simultaneously it was and t wasn’t him. “

With a groan Dwalin got up from the floor and offered Emma his hand to help her up. When he left the room, even though they were in his chambers, he looked back at her. “I don’t think I need to remind you what will happen if he doesn’t come to his senses.”

And with those ominous words he left, leaving her to her thoughts.


	35. Durin's day II

When she returned to their chambers, he wasn’t there, nor was he in the throneroom, his public study or one of the other places in the kingdom he could reasonably be. She was ready to give up and had already started changing for the night, when she suddenly knew, without a shadow of a doubt, where he was.

She threw her nightgown in a corner in favor of some suede pants and a merinowool tunic, and left her chambers again. This time she did not walk around Erebor in search of her husband, but followed the steep stairs closed to the public, to that little place roughly hewn out of the mountain in front of the hidden entrance to Erebor. The last time she had been here, her father had taken her to see the stars. Or used that as a pretence to talk to her. It seemed she was to have another difficult conversation here.

 

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“Yasith.” He said warningly, and she froze. He had called her many names, most good, some bad, but he had never so coldly called her ‘wife’. The word had an undertone of cold distance, of mere obligation and of contracts replacing love. It felt like that was all she was to him; someone he was chained to by contract, but nothing more.

So she did not approach him further, instead opting to sit down on the edge, her feet resting on the small steps of stairs that simultaneously made up the path to here and formed the decorations for the giant dwarves symbolically guarding Erebor.  She swallowed thickly and looked up at her husband. He was still standing in the same spot she had found him in, staring into the dark distance.

After several minutes he sat down next to her, pushing her closer to the wall so she would not be at risk from falling down hundrerds of meters, leaning his elbows on his knees and rubbing his face with his hands. “I—“ he started, but then he fell silent, not knowing where to begin.

“Is there someone else?” She asked bluntly, not fully trusting Dwalin on his word.

His head jerked up. “No. There isn’t anyone else. Nor has there been, so I swear.”

“Then what, Thorin? What have I done to offend you so much that you do not even want to look at me anymore?!” She knew Dwalin’s interpretation of Thorin’s behavior wasn’t correct. If he tought he didn’t deserve her, he would do more to get her attention, not less.

He burried his face in his hands again, and could only focuss on breathing in and out for a while. “I do not trust myself anymore. I fear I might—might hurt you.”

Emma clenched her jaw. “You’re hurting me now, Thorin. You pushing me away hurts more than your hands could ever do.”

“You don’t understand!” He barked out, and then tried to calm himelf again, he felt torn between the need to yell at her untill she understood and the need to take her into his arms and bury himself inside of her until he forgot the world around him.

“Then make me!” She bit back at him, looking at him defiantly.

“I was away from you for three years! Three years of hell, all to get you what you wanted, and what did you give me in return?! Stories about how things are going here, but nothing about you! Nothing about _us_!” The vein in his temple was starting to throb and he was turning a bit red. “And for three years I have seen nothng but violence and death, and now I am expected to just return to normal again?! I can’t do this! I still feel like there is danger everywhere, like everyone is a danger!”

He probably said more than he had wanted to, because after that outburst, he fell awkwardly silent.

“How would you have felt if my letters fell into someone else’s hands, Thorin? How would you have felt if others, perhaps even outloud, read how I missed you, how I wanted you and all the things I wanted to do to you? You’re not a regular soldier and I’m not a regular housewife; people knowing that their queen just wants to be fucked untill she can’t breathe anymore doesn’t exactly better the Durin name, don’t you think so?!” She was nearly as angry as he was, yet she didn’t feel his shame. She threw her words at him as if they were daggers meant to wound him.

“You have shown clearly that you did not want me, Emma!” He hissed back, and at that point she doubted they would get anywhere, thinking it might be just a useless fight. “The way you dress, the way you act!”

“The way I _dress_?! What does the way I dress have anything to do with it?!”

“You cover yourself up, like you don’t want me to look at you! Even your nightgowns have become more like tents than sleepwear!”

Emma stiffened, knowing he was technically right about her changed clothing but that he interpreted it completely wrong. Her features softened, as did the tone of her voice. “From the moment you left Erebor I have felt utterly and completely cold, Thorin. And nothing I did could make me feel warm again.” She sighed, and looked at his face. “Everyday I thought it meant that you had died, and I was always prepared for that one messenger coming into our chambers, telling me my worst fears had come true. I thought it would go away when you returned, and for a moment it did. For that small moment when i saw you leaving your men and walking over to us I felt warm again. But then it turned out you hadn’t really returned, you just look and sound like my husband, but you are nothing like him!”

Now it was his turn to swallow thickly. He had also thought this conversation would get them nothing but perhaps the opportunity to vent their frustrations in a screaming match. But it seemed like his wife had grown up, had become more mature in her communication.

“You—“ He started, but he couldn’t put his feelings into words. His worry, his relief, and the overwhelming urge to protect her that flowed over him. So he took off his coat and pulled her closer to him, putting the fur garment around her shoulders to supply some more protection against the cold winter wind that howled around them. He put his head on her shoulder, and to his eternal shame he started to cry. He couldn’t hold back the loud, wet sobs that excaped him, and he just felt utterly immasculated. He was the one that should support her, not the other way around. Men did not cry. He believed it to be a complete miracle that she didn’t just laugh at him and then left him here, but instead ran her hands through his hair while softly kissing his head.

It was only when he had calmed down that he could look at her again, a faint, shamefull blush on his cheeks. “I need to know, Thorin. I really need to know or I will forever doubt everything.”She said, looking straight at him. “Who was it you were thinking about when you—you know—in the bath?”

He frowned, his mind not completely caught up with the change of topic. “Did you think I was thinking of someone else? Was that why you left and never said anything about it?”

“You described her as being pure, Thorin, and that is not something that could be said about me!”

He put their foreheads together. “No matter what you do or say, Emmma, for me you will always be my sanazyung.” He murmured.

Now it was her turn to cry, and it evoked a dry chuckle from him. “Nice pair we make. We are supposed to be rulers, and look at us sitting here, crying in turns.”

She half laughed, half cried. “Take me to bed, Thorin. Sleep with me, lie with me, I don’t care, as long as you share our bed again.”


	36. Durin's Day III

He had carried her all the way from the hidden entrance to their bedroom, and now he carefully laid her down on the bed, staring at her. Slowly she took off her clothes untill there was only bare skin left, her gaze inviting him to do the same. But he wasn’t ready yet. Physically he was of course, but mentally he needed a little more time to trust himself, to know he would not lose his selfcontrol.

So he laid next to her and pulled her back to his chest, simply enjoying the feeling of having her near again.

 

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The next day was torture, it could not be described in any other way. Throughout the boring requests of the overeager nobles that seemed to think he would see requests made on the morning after Durin’s day as signs of hard work, and during his even more boring councilmeetings in the afternoon, he kept seeing images of how she had undressed herself for him. Needless to say he found his breeches being too small, and he preferred to remain seated for the biggest part of the day.

And then there she was at dinner, wearing one of the dresses he had gifted her for her amad day. The ones she wore when she wasn’t cold. The ones that showed him what he longed to see. He let out a small noise that could be described as keening, though he would never admit to doing such a thing.

But his wife had heard, and casted him a knowing smile. He did not know if it was his impatience that made time go slower, or if she actually spent more time eating, but he did know that when she decided to speak to some nobled after he had impatiently watched her put the final bite of dessert in her mouth, he was ready to explode.

That night, many people saw how the king and queen seemed to magnetically be pulled to eachother. No matter where they were in the hall, somehow they always ended up next to eachother again. It was a welcome sight, as rumors of what had been going on between their ruler and his wife had been slowly but surely spreading their way through Erebor. Yet now they seemed to change in nature, and the cardplayers in the corners were already placing bets on when the next royal pregnancy would be announced.

Thorin did not think that far ahead; he needed all his faculties to appear concentrated on the conversations at hand, when all his senses were tuned into his wife.

 

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Once they were finally able to retire and had entered their chambers, he grabbed Emma by the waist and nearly dragged her to the bedroom and laid her down on the bed. Yet when in a joint effort they had taken her clothes off, he felt the sense of not being able to control himself come back. Thorin panicked for a moment, but then took a deep breath and slowed down.

He looked at her.“So you wanted me to fuck you untill you couldn’t breathe?” He asked, getting off the bed and taking a chair from the small table and setting it on the side of the bed. “Show me what you did in those moments.”

If she hadn’t been blushing under his stare before, she certainly did now, and she was taken by indecisiveness.

“Turn” he said, indicating with his hand that she should lie with her feet towards him.

Emma did as he said, and he got up and took a pillow to place under her head, and then sat back down. This placement would mean that if, or when, she opened her legs, he would look straight at her most intimate parts, and it only enhanced the blushes that were already present on her cheekbones. “Show me” He urged her “I want to worship you.” And to his delight she spread her legs a little.

Her saw her smiling as if she were thouroughly amused and ashamed at the same time. “And the bed is your altar?”

Quickly he also divested himself of most of his clothing, only leaving his undergarments on. “Aye. The bed in my altar and you’re my godess.”  He replied huskily.

She ran a finger along her slit, wetting it with her already present arousal, and then slowly started to circle her clit with her middlefinger of her right hand, bringing her left hand to her breast and rolling her nipple between her fingers.

His erection hardened and he started to palm it through the soft fabric of his underwear. It felt so good, so much beter than during those lonely nights in Gundabad, and he let out a small groan. This seemed to elicit Emma to speed up, and the sounds she made drove him mad. But he was determinded to watch this, to see her bring herself to completion, so he let go of his throbbing cock, clinging to the armrests of his chair with his hands untill his knuckles went white, unvoluntarily making grinding movements with his hips.

He saw her shortly abandone her clit in favour of sliding her finger inside of her, and her legs fell open further, letting him see everything.  He had to hold himself back from falling to his knees by the side of the bed and just devour her, but he knew that could wait.

“Thorin” She moaned out, and his cocked jumped again, nearly painfully hardening further.

“Do it, sanazyung. Just let go and come for me.” He grunted, the painfull restiction his underwear offered becoming very appearant.

She bucked her hips up in a final attempt to find more friction, and she moaned his name again, much louder this time. After that, her head fell back and she only lightly stroked around her clit, the little nub too sensitive now to touch directly.

She sat up after a few second, her face red with arousal and shyness. But she didn’t hold back, and climbed off the bed, bending down to kiss him.

“No.” He groaned. He had not wanted to do this yet. He wanted to wait, untill he was sure of himself. “Don’t. I do not want you to—you don’t have to—“

Emma took his braids and softly pulled them. It was that sensation, that irresistable flow of sparkled all through his skull, that made him follow her to the bed.

Normally she took a more following role in the bedroom, taking what he would give her. But as she made him lie down on his back, he knew that somehow changed.  He groaned as he felt her lips trail over his chest, paying special attentions to the new scars Gundabad had earned him while her fingers played with his nipples.

He bucked his hips, and with a small smirk she trailed further down. She put her lips on the inside of his thigh, and in the soft light of the candles the sheen of sweat on her skin glinstered as if it were gold. When she hooked her fingers behind the waistband of his underwear and tugged it while looking up at him, he complied with her gentle gesture and lifted his ass off the bed, and a second later he was also bare, his head leaning back and groaning softly as she kissed up and down his member, her tongue flicking in and out of her mouth.

When she lifted her head up, he pulled her towards him for a deep, passionate kiss. Emma clambered onto his lap and for a while they just kissed, re-exploring eachother’s bodies with their hands while she rhytmically tillted her hips against his cock.

When she lifted her hips to guide him inside of her, he stopped her movements with his hands on her ass.  She smiled at him. “Do you really think you would hurt me, kurdu?”

She did not move, remaining in a position where the tip of his cock grazed her entrance, and looked him straight in the eye. And then she bent forward a bit, and softly sucked at the sensitive skin between his neck and his ear. With a groan his head fell back and she kissed and licked the rest of his neck, her tongue a soft contradiction to the coarse hair of his beard. He let go of her ass and grabbed her breasts, squeezing them and rolling her nipples between his fingers.

Emma slid down onto him, and for a moment he could see nothing else but the white hot stars in front of his eyes.  Fuck he had missed this!

He tilted his head forward and took her right nipple into his mouth while her hands were entangled around the back of his neck, moaning in pleasure everytime she pushed her hips forward and took him in deeper. Somehow she seemed to have become tighter again, and the delicious friction was unbelievable.

“Yes, Thorin!” She panted out. “Deeper! Faster!”

His arms had been around her waist, but he let go in favor of grabbing her ass again, massaging the supple flesh. He thrusted up, faster and harder, his breath leaving him in a long, drawn out hiss. He lifted her up a bit, and together they found a rhytm in which they simultaneously pulled out and pushed in again.

She leaned back, and he softly bit her nipple again. “Thorin!” She moaned in a high-pitched, breathless voice, and she kept repeating it as he moved faster and faster untill she lost her rhytm and fell back, her nails scrathing the back of his neck in the process.

He kept going and going, the drops of sweat burning the scratchmarks she had left on his neck, untill the clenching of her walls became too much and he also came, with a groan that seemed to cost him his soul.

She fell forward, lying limply against his chest. They stayed like that for a while, untill she started to shiver as her skin cooled down. He lifted her up and they crawled under the blankets together.

“I think you should be religious more often.” Emma sighed out, and he tightened his grip around her.

“I saw you, you know. Or at least I thought I saw you. The last battle was just over and you were walking over the field, while I looked down at you from the tower. You looked like one of those angels of Men.”

She wriggled untill she had turned around and looked at him, her hand caressing his cheek. “In my mind, I was there. With you.”

He tucked her head onto the musles of his upper arm, and together they fell asleep like that.


	37. Birth VII

“You’re in my amad’s bed! Get out! This isn’t your bed!”

Thorin was startled awake by the yells of his youngest son, and groggily he looked at the boy. He stood by the side of the bed, an outraged look on his face and a finger pointed at his father.

Beside Thorin, Emma snickered quietly, pulling the blanket up a little further. “Take your brother and go play with Melo and Sima, nurti. Jalila will make you breakast.”

While Emma’s ‘little gem’ grudgingly glanced at his father again, he left the room, and not much later they heard their sons closing the doors of the apartment and going to Jalila. “Not my bed, hmmm?” Thorin said with a little chuckle while he drew his wife closer in an embrace.

“Perhaps you should prove that it is really your bed.” Emma replied in a sultry tone. “I believe your morning ‘infliction’ might be perfectly suitable to do so.”

When she spoke of his ‘infliction’ he rubbed it against her ass, the added stimulus only making it harder. “Oh really? And what should I do with it then?”

“If you don’t know that, Thorin, then I wonder how we begot our children.”

In one smooth movement he turned her on her back and pinned her hands over her head. “Let me show you what I do with it!” he groaned, and he latched down on one of her nipples, tickling the sensitive skin around it with his beard.

 

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When he was satisfied that she was completely informed about what he could do, she sat on the edge of the bed, languidly yawing and stretching. “So many things to do and so little interest in doing any of them.”

He grabbed her wrist when she wanted to walk to the bedroom, not nearly tight enough to hurt, but enough to get her attention. “Come back, just for a moment.”

With an exaggerated yet indulgant sigh, thinking he just wanted more now that they had found eachother again, she fell back and rolled over to him, ending up cradled in his arms with her face buried in the strong planes of his chest muscles.

Thorin held her tighter and kissed the top of her head, nuzzling his noze into the silky soft strands. “We have not spoken about her.” He said softly, and he felt his wife tense up and trying to get out of his embrace.

But he would not let her. Her actions two nights before had shown him that sometimes they just needed to force eachother to stay, to stop running and hiding. With a final jerk she tried to escape him, but then she relented, staying still in his arms.

“It broke my heart to wake up to you having—being in so much pain.”

He did not really know how to continue; he had gotten used to her picking up the conversation. So he sighed deeply and kissed her head harder in an attempt to make her feel, understand, how he loved her.

It took a while, but then he heard a soft whisper: “Rose”. His wife said. “I named her Rose.”

He drew her closer, not really knowing what to say to that, as the sadness inside of him threatened to eat him whole. “I’m sorry, Thorin.” Emma whispered, and he backed away from her, looking intendly at her face.

“Sorry for what, azyungal?”

She looked down, avoiding his gaze. “For—for not being able to give you what I promissed.”

“I can not and will not deny that I was looking forward to having a daughter with all my heart, Emma. But not for a second think that I blame you for this.” He nudged her forehead, and she looked up at him. “Don’t think like that, Emma.” He murmered.

“I can—I will give you another child, Thorin.” She whispered back, her eyes shining brightly with unshed tears.

He sighed deeply, knowing where this was going and what the result of their last discussion about this topic had been. “We will not try again, azyungal.”

She drew a little back, and looked straight at him. “We will.”

“I will not watch how you are in pain, nor will I watch how you lose your dreams. We will _not_ try again, Oin will make sure of it.” Somehow his mind had believed it a good idea to just repeat what he had already said, as if that would give them some credibility. It didn’t.

Once the words had left his mouth, he knew they were a mistake, and he braced himself for a sneer or a fight. But instead his wife softly started to cry, her face tilted down so he could only see the top of her head.

 “What if I lose you, azyungal? What if our sons lose you?” He pleaded, but it did not seem to work, as she only started to cry harder.

He sighed and pulled her closer, leaning his chin on her head. He knew Emma would not cry just to get what she wanted, nor was it easy for her to show her emotions in such a way, and he could not stand the thought that he had disappointed her so deeply that she couldn’t stop herself. So he relented. Other men would take weeks if not months for a decision as this one, but not Thorin, He knew his duty as a husband, and more important: he _wanted_ to give his wife her way. “One more time, azyungal. One. And only if Oin says your body is able to. Promise?”

He felt her nod. “Promise.” She said in a small voice.

 

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“Another?”

Oin sat back in his chair, and looked at her in astonishment. “Lass- eeeh- your highness, you do know our king is twohundrerd and one years old, do you not?”

Emma nodded slowly, not quite understanding where the healer was going.

“So don’t you think it is time to quiet down?”

“Quiet down?” She asked, still not really following his lead.

“Aye, quiet down. In the bedroom. For a man his age, such exertion should be avoided.”  Oin said, completely serious, judging from his stern tone and the frown on his forehead.

Emma turned bright red, and if she hadn’t promissed to let Oin judge if she could have another child, she would have sprinted out of his office. She was quite beginning to regret coming here immediately after she and Thorin spoke, it would perhaps have been better to wait for another healer.

But bravely she ploughed on, deeming the goal to be more important than this completely and utterly embarrassing conversation. “But what about me? I mean, can I?”

Oin muttered and sputtered. “The agreements Thorin and you make regarding the boundaries in your relationship are not really up to me, but your age shouldn’t prevent such nocturnal activities.”

She closed her eyes for a second, trying to remain alm and collected. “A child I mean. Can I safely have a child?”

“Oh! Yes, I would say so.”

She quickly got up and nodded at him. “Thank you, that is all I needed to know.”

 

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When she got back to their chambers, she found Thorin getting dressed by his valet. It was a rare occasion that he asked for help in getting ready, usually he just chose his clothes himself and kempt his own hair. Or had her do it. His valet also served as head of their household staff, so he had enough to do if Thorin didn’t need his assistance.

But she had no time to time to wonder why it was that her husband required assistance in getting dressed, as he already impatiently asked her: “Well, what did Oin say?”

With a barely withheld laughter she looked at him. “He said that due to your age you shouldn’t be engaging in activities necessary to make babies anymore.”

She saw the valet slowly turning red in an attempt to not make his amusement over the remark obvious, but she knew he could be trusted to not spill the details of the royal life all over Erebor. And if he didn’t hear it now, he would certainly hear it from one of the other servants that somehow always knew what was being said between the king and queen.

“My age?!” Thorin finally managed to say, staring at her with open mouth, his arms hanging limply by his sides.

“Yes. He said you should quiet down.”

“Quiet down?” It was most amusing to see Thorin standing there like a statue, repeating the words she said in astonishment.

When he finally noticed what he was doing, he brushed off the hands of his valet whom was closing the buttons of his doublet . “A moment, I will call you right back.” He said, his irritation becoming quite clear.

The man swiftly left their bedchamber with a small bow, and Thorin walked over to Emma. “This is some sort of a joke, right? A laugh for you?”

She shook her head. “I swear it! The man is so oldfashioned even Balin is more flexible in his thinking than him!”

Thorin sat down on the edge of the bed, causing his doublet to scrunch up in an strange way as it hadn’t been fully closed yet. “Is this how you feel, Emma? That I am too old for you, too old to have children?” he sighed. “An old, dour, grumpy man, that’s how they see me.”

Sensing how Oin’s stupid remarks grated her husband, she also sat down and took his hand. “Do you feel I am too young?”

He frowned. “No.”

Than I don’t feel like you’re too old.” She said with a smile and got up and kneeled in front of him.

She closed the buttons on his doublet and then started combing his hair. As she did, Thorin rubbed his beard, slowly pulling the hairs. “When Melo was a teenager, he used to do the same in an attempt to make them grow faster.” She said, temporarily lost in memory.

He chuckled. “Aye, all boys do. We can not wait to look adult.” He frowned for a moment. “Do you think I should grow it longer?”

She scoffed. “Untill you can tuck it into your belt and it will constrict me while we sleep? I’d rather not.”

He remained silent after that, but subconsciously he kept pulling the hairs untill she braided it for him.

“Now that you’re all dressed up, would you mind telling me why?”

“ Hmmm?” He hummed in question, having been pulled out of his ponderings over his age.

“Why? Why are you all dressed up?” She repeated.

“For Fili’s lunch of course. Have you forgotten?”

Emma groaned. “Yes. Can we bring the children or not?”

“I don’t think so.”

“is it something important?”

Thorin pursed his lips. “I’m guessing they will make another announcement of Sigrid being pregnant. By the way, what are their other two called again?”

She chuckled, having told him many times already. “Bali and Fain. Bali is three and has Fili’s golden hair and Sigrid’s brown eyes. Fain is two and is the spitting image of Bain, only shorter.”

“Bain?” Came the confused reply.

“Yes” Emma sighed. “Bain, Sigrid’s younger brother, heir to the throne of Dale.”

“They are rather industrious in their family expansion, don’t you think?”

Emma shrugged. “She is of Men, they all have a lot of children.”

He seemed to think for a moment, and then looked at her again. “Do women not mind, having children? I mean, being pregnant and then giving birth and then having to take care of them?”

Emma shook her head. “I don’t. it is worth it, for what you get back.” When he still looked doubtfull, she though of another way of explaining. “See it as starting a new mine. First you get nothing but rubble, but once you have hit a vein, you can reap the rewards. Giving birth is the rubble, but the rest is hitting the vein.”

This seemed to have done the trick, as he nodded thoughtfully. “My amad never seemed to find the vein. She always told me how much work my brother and sister were, and I always wondered if I was also such a nuisance to her.”

Emma scooted a little closer to him. “She didn’t complain to you about the joys of motherhood because one does not complain about nice things, Thorin. She must have loved all three of you, she just didn’t say it.”

He wanted to reply, but a discrete knock on the door told him it was nearly time to go to Fili’s apartment. Hurriedly, Emma changed her clothes to a poppy colored dress and brushed her hair with quick, rough strokes. Ten minutes later, they walked through the royal corridor.

 

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“Uncle”

With a whisper and a jerk of his head, Fili beckoned his uncle to step into the bedroom, away from the other guests that had gathered in the sitting room. He had never been there, and as he entered he looked around. It looked homely, like he would have expected from Sigrid. Their curtains were not made of the heavy velvet most dwarves with the luxury of having windows preferred, but of a bright yellow cotton, decorated with small flowers. The same design came back in the pillows and spread on the bed, and on part of the walls. That was actually quite odd; they seemed to have put some sort of paper against the wall, so none of the marvelous greenish grey color of the stone was visible, only bright colors and little flowers.

“It was a compromise on my part.” Fili sighed, seeing his uncle stare at his walls. “She said she sometimes found living in the mountain a bit depressing, so I told her she could make the bedroom look like her home back in Laketown.”

“Ah” nodded Thorin, familiar with concessions made for wives.

“But anyway. Eeeeh—I have an announcement to make, and as you have missed the previous two, I was hoping you would do the honors, uncle.”

Thorin chuckled and clapped his sister son on the back. “Well done, well done. And I shall, of course.”

 

When all were finished eating, Bard, Bain and Tilda still looking a bit astonished at how much dwarves could eat, Thorin scraped his throat and stood up.

“Dear relatives and friends, my beloved sister son has informed me he and his wife have a joyous announcement to make. In addition to their two lovely children, Bali and Fain” At this point Emma saw a hint of a smug smile on his face, as if he was really pleased with himself that he had remembered the names “They will be adding to the expansion of the Durin line by having a third.”

Cheers erupted, and for a while the room was filled with people walking up and down to congratiolate Fili and Sigrid. When Thorin looked around, he saw Bard staring at his daughter, and he leaned in closer.

“Is this not happy news to you?” He asked in a hushed tone, not wanting anyone to overhear and spoil the moment.

Bard jerkily looked up, having been pulled from his thoughts. “Aye, it is wonderfull.”

Thorin raised an eyebrow, clearly showing he was expecting a more elaborate answer.

His neighbour leaned back in his chair. “You must have seen it with your sister sons, Thorin. We nurture and raise our children, and we see so much of ourselves and our spouses in them. So there are certain expectations, and when they do something that does not fit within these expectations, it takes a while to adjust.”

Thorin nodded, being all too familiair with Fili and Kili not exactly meeting expectancies. “I take it  you are not pleased with her accepting Fili as her husband?”

Bard raised his eyebrows in surprise, or perhaps shock. “Oh no, I believe they make a fine couple. No, my thoughts go out to her having another child. As you perhaps know, her mother died while giving life to Tilda. It has caused us all much grief, of course, but Sigrid took on most of the burdens after that, taking care of her siblings. So I had expected she would not have many children, and a litte later perhaps.”

A cold shiver ran up Thorin’s spine as he heard about a woman dying to give birth to a child, and he glanced at Emma, whom was talking to Sigrid. He heard Bard sigh deeply next to him, and returned his attention to him. “She has always been a bit shy, preferring our home to large social gatherings.”

They now both looked at Sigrid, and saw how uncomfortable she was with all the attention centered around her. The moment was broken when Bali came running into the room, Fain toddling behind him. Clearly they had escaped their nurse, as the woman ran into the room behind them, her head bright red, and stopping in her tracks as she saw nearly all of the most prominent nobles of Erebor suddenly looking at her.

She stammered an apology, but it was waved away by Bard, who told her to have a break and then lift his two grandsons up with one big swoop of his arms. “I seem to have found me two orcses.” He said in a playfull, rough voice. “What to do with such raskalls? Should I _eat_ them?” he asked, and with his beardstubble he tickled the necks of the two boys, whom were laughing and wiggling euphorically.

“Nooooo!”  They yelled in uniscence.

“No? What then? Should I _tickle_   them to death?”

The boys weren ow hysterically screaming, as Bard mercilessly tickled them.

“Da..” Sigrid tried, feeling as if they were drawing too much attention. But she shouldn’t have feared, because when the boys managed to free themselves of Bards arms, they found that most of the men gathered in the room were up for a little game of ‘catch the orcses’, and they all chased them around.

They ran and they ran and they ran, and only came to a halt when they found themselves bumping into the knees of their stern uncle Thorin. They looked up, and saw the king looking at them. He always seemed to strict, so serious, much unlike their adad and uncle. And their mother always told them how they should be respectfull to him, and how they were not supposed to bother him, so they were a bit at a loss what to do now. The other people in the room also seemed to sense the change in atmosphere, and they stopped, waiting for what was to happen. Bard already opened his mouth to tell Thorin it was merely a game, when the king leaned closer to the boys.

“Durins do not run away from our enemies, boys.” He turned them around to face all the grown ups, and whispered in their ears: “Show them you are not orcses, but proud warriors of Erebor. Go get them!”

And with a little push in the back and some spoons put into their hands by the serious king, the game was back on, only now the nobles were chased around the room by two little boys. When they all laid on the floor in defeat, the boys turned back to Thorin, hoping for some kind of validation of their bravery.

Thorin looked around and then nodded. “It is a pity you have defeated your uncle Dwalin, boys, or I would have told him you would have to be part of the royal guard. Such fighting, and such strong hearts are exactly what we need.”

They glowed with pride, and then ran back to Sigrid, telling her how they saved Erebor. Dwalin, in the meantime, had gotten up and now glared at Thorin. “You know they’ll hound me forever, right?”

“What’s two more? Your Dillin already follows you everywhere when you’re in armour,  and so do Stone and Mell.”

Dwalin grunted again, and then sat down next to his cousin and king an lighted his pipe. He nodded at the king’s neck “You and Emma, everything alright?”

Thorin glanced at Emma and then nodded with something that looked like a fainth blush on his cheeks. “Aye. She wants another child.”

Dwalin laughed, a deep, roaring thunder that rolled through the room. “Yes, it would seem everything is fine again.” But when he saw Thorin’s face he frowned. “Then why are you looking like someone pissed in your ale?”

“Oin said I am too old for—well, for what is need to make that child.” He admitted, his pride still hurt.

Again the room was disturbed by a roaring laugh, and Dwalin clapped Thorin on the shoulder. “He told me that when I got married! Everyone knows Oin has his peculiarities, cousin. Seriously, think of Nain, he had his first child when he was well over two hundrerd.”

That did seem to make Thorin feel a bit better, and with a much less deep frown he also leaned back in his chair, enjoying an afternoon without the usual courtly strains.


	38. Birth VIII

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Firstly: if you have not read about an orc-chase, go back a chpater, I have added two to chapters tonight.  
> Second: There is a time skip of about 7 months between this and the previous chapter. To keep this story going, and ending where it needs to end in a reasonable amount of chapters, this will happen more in the coming parts.  
> Third: I hope you're all still enjoying!

Thorin was informed of the start of the labour of princess Sigrid by his valet; appearantly his wife was already in Fili’s chambers, as were most of the others that ought to be present. He didn’t know why, as he could find no rational reason for it, but his heart started to beat faster to a point he felt his doublet was too tight around his neck. Yet he managed to keep himself composed, and he ordered the valet to clear his schedule. It was time for the line of Durin to expand again.

If he thought _his_ nerves had been wracked when Emma gave birth, he had not thought of Fili. Every time an anguished moan was audible, he jumped up and paced the room, staring at the bedroomdoor with fierce longing.

Dis came to sit next to him, and whispered: “Don’t do anything. Just sit here and move as less as possible.”

He frowned in confusion at her, wordlessly asking her to elaborate. She sighed, and whispered: He can’t handle it. it was just like this the other two times. The first time Dwalin tried to talk to him, but he ended up with a broken nose for his effort.”

Thorin bit his lip in an attempt to hold back a chuckle, but his amusement soon vanished. “It’s _not_ funny, Thorin!” His sister hissed. “He told me after Bali that he just couldn’t stand his pain. Said it reminded him of—of the battle.”

Kili had his nightmares, Thorin knew that. But it had seemed that Fili came out of it more or less unscathed. Relatively unhurt and one of the heroes. Now it turned out that wasn’t enough. He had seen it before of course, warriors buckling not under the pain of physical injury, but completely crippled by mental hurt.

He got up and walked over to Fili, even though Dis was making ‘stop it!’ movements and the others looked at him with big eyes. He did not try to talk, or even get his sister-son to sit down. He did what he had always done when Fili was young, before they had been pushed into this strait-jacket of being Ereborian royalty. He pressed their foreheads together and held the sides of Fili’s head with his hands. Once, a long time ago, this head had fitted into his hands and had been unable to move, but now not anymore. Now he had to hold tight to keep Fili still. After several moments his nephew seemed to yield to his hold, and he started murmering the same words he had done when Fili was young. Words about love, about caring and about courage.

 

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Finally, they were called into the bedroom by the healers. And after they had given Fili his moment, Thorin walked in first. He stiffly congratiolated Sigrid with a small kiss, evenly uncomfortable with it as he had been with Tauriel, and then he say down, looking at the baby. It was another boy, judging by the blue blanket that was wrapped around him, and he peered to see the little face.

He wracked his brain again, thinking what would be a good name. The first two were named after Sigrid’s family, Bali and Fain, and he believed it time to pay tribute to the Durin line. But what would be the best name?

His pondering were disturbed as Fili cleared hsi throat and looked at him. “Eeeerm, uncle, we already had a name in mind, and we were wondering if you object?”

He looked up, a bit confused. Was this to happen every time? His sister-sons and their wives throwing tradition away completely! Yet this was not the moment, so he tightly smiled. “What name did you think of?”

“i wanted to name him after adad, Nehili.”

He wanted to say something, but he felt Dis squeezing his hand. Judging by the endeared smile on Fili’s face, he thought his mother was touched by the gesture, but Thorin knew better. But he also knew what that squeeze meant, so he nodded. “A good name, Nehili.” He managed to say in a normal tone, even though he felt especially Dwalin’s stare burning.

 

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With the slightest of hesitations she knocked on the door. She rarely came here, and if she did it was for her grandchildren, not for herself. But now she had no choice, as, in a way, it was for another child of her son.

One of the servants led her into Thorin’s study, and her brother himself followed soon after.

“Dis—“ he started, but she did not let him finish.

“They must never know, Thorin. I’d rather they live a happy lie than a miserable truth.”

Thorin stared at his hands for a long while, and then he looked up to his sister. “Dwalin told me about you and him.”

For a moment she considered lashing out, telling him to stop, but she didn’t; she just looked back.

“Were the two of you ever--?

She let out a dry scoff. “Thror and Thrain prevented it. He wanted to marry me, you know. And I him. He already gave me a courting gift. And then it was all taken away.”

Thorin tilted his head slightly and looked at her. Inquisitive, not unkind.

“What did he give you?”  He asked, but before the last word left his mouth, he already knew. He  rationally he should have known a long time ago, but he never though of it.

His suspicions were confirmed when Dis pulled an intricate mythril and diamond brooch out of her hair. He had seen it many times, sometimes pinned to her dress, sometimes worked into her hair, but she always wore it. She had adamantly refused to ever take it off, and had nearly struck him when he had suggested she pawned it when times were hardest.

“Still?’ he asked.

“Always” she answered without looking away in shame.

But then why hadn’t she married him when they reclaimed Erebor? Why had she just let him marry Dina? It must have been agony for the both of them all of these years; being so close yet so far from eachother.

His sister must have seen the uestions written plainly on her face. “You” she said, assuming it was enough of an explanation. And it was. Her tone told him everything he needed to know. They had not gotten back together because that was just not what dwarves did. When their spouse died, dwarves remained alone, comforted only by memories and stories, never by another.

It was one of the saddest things he had ever heard, and it took him a while to gather his thoughts, and think of the consequences. But then he got up and started walking to the door. “I have to get back, I have things to do.”

He saw her face sag, and he added: “Dwalin told me him and Dina are no longer sharing rooms. Appearantely she has found her One and he has given her permission to be with him.”

He knew this would be enough. Not a straightforward permission, nothing that would show that the king of Erebor was tampering with Tradition. But enough for them.


	39. Birth IX

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So long between updates and now a really short chapter, shame on me!  
> Lately I have been picking up an old hobby of mine, Lego. *admits this with a heavy blush* Guess which themes I'm into ;)
> 
> Anyway, short chapter this time, that will lead to more!

The months that passed felt like they flew by like the winds howling around the top of Erebor. As the spring and summer neared, Thorin became increasingly more busy to a point where it became rare for him to share a meal with his family. There were always more envoys to talk to and more contracts to read.

This night was no different than those previous, and he rolled his shoulders in a feeble attempt to get rid of the knots in his muscles that had been plagueing him the past days. When he movements appeared to provide at least some temperary relief, he let out a soft, grumbling moan, just as Balin’s new assistant came into this study.

To the delight of Erebor’s gossip mongers the assistant wasn’t a he, but a she. And a very attractive she at that. With her being related to Balin’s wife, Thorin’s advisor had somehow found himself in the situation where he had felt obliged to give the woman a job. And where in other situations he could always find a diplomatic solution that was agreeable to all parties, he wasn’t this time. So now the king and nobles of Erebor were accompanied by a pretty woman when they were dealing with matters of state.

Useless to say, Balin had not made himself popular with many wives. Bofur’s visited her husband conspicuously often to bring him lunch and snacks, while Glon’s significant other had actually complained to Emma about it during the Queen’s council. Sigrid also had her doubts, though not voiced as loudly or as boldly as lady Gloin, while Tauriel mocked the whole uproar about a female working with mild sarcasm.

Yet the one that would have most reason to object, whoms husband had had other females before during their wedding, and whoms husband spent the most time in his office, remained mute about the subject. For all intents and purpuses, the new assistant might as well not exist to Emma.

Or so it seemed.

Thorin wracked his brain to remember the woman’s name as she started speaking to him in a quiet, melodious voice, but he didn’t get any further than ‘something with a T’. So he just waved his hand and told her to come back later with the signed contracts and bent over his papers again, inwardly sighing over the injustice of getting Erebor back and then being burried in a pile of papers he would never be able to escape from.

 

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Through the excrutiatingly dull letter of some lord that believed he had been wronged, not by his majesty of course, but by the people working for his royal majesty, he smelled something familiar, something tha reminded him of home. Of home and warmt hand love. At first it was subconsciously, he just felt more relaxed, but as the smell did not leave his senses, he became more and more aware of it.

When he finally looked up, he found his wife sitting on one of the smaller cabinets used for storing files. With a small smirk on her face and several plates of food sitting next to her, it could have been a rediculous scene, but it got even worse. Gracefully she slid off the cabinet and walked towards him. When she almost reached his desk, she held out her hand and arm, and softly took his hand in hers.

“Good evening, your highness. I’m Emma, your wife.” She said, sounding quite seriously.

For a moment he did not know what was happening, but then he laughed loudly and wholeheartedly for what felt the first time in weeks. “My wife, you say?” He mocked with a smirk matching hers, and he pulled her onto his lap. But as soon as he started to softly kiss her and he felt her arms around his neck, the door to his office was opened again.

Emma practically jumped off of her husband’s lap as she saw the woman entering. She ran her hands over the front of her dress to get the wrinkles out, and then looked at the woman a little better. She stood before the desk looking at them with a clear blush on her cheeks, untill Thorin told her to continue with her duties.

As he looked at his wife, he saw the small muscles in her jaw clenching and unclenching, and her stare following Balin’s assistant every movement. Not in a good way though, and his head already started to throb in anticipation for the headache he was surely to have later.

The door fell into the lock with a soft click, and Emma turned to her husband. She could not believe what she just saw. Sandris was supposed to be Balin’s assistant, working independantly but always with a male familymember to look after her. But as she had just witnessed, Sandris did not just work for Balin, she worked for Thorin as well. No doubt the two of them spent many hours together, just the two of them, alone in this office.

“Who was that, Thorin?” She asked in a tight voice, not wanting half the council to hear what she had to say.

Thorin tried to do his utmost best to smile at her in a way that showed he had absolutely nothing to hide, but in reality he just managed a really uncomfortable upward bending of his lips. “That’s that relative of Balin’s wife, I forgot her name.”

Emma hummed sarcastically. “And exactly how often does she come to your office at night?”

By softly tugging her hand he tried to get her to sit back in his lap again, but she jerked her hand out of his as if bitten by a snake. “What are you hiding, Thorin?!” She hissed furiously.

He had no idea how this was getting out of hand to quickly. The past weeks she had not aid anything about Balin’s assistant, and now suddely the world seemed to be ending?! “Calm down, azyungal.” He said in what he hoped was a placating voice, but Emma seemed to be disagreeing.

And to his great, and eternal surprise, he had to quickly duck as one of the plates of food soared past his head only to shatter against the wall. When the flying danger had passed, they stared at eachother for several moments. Both their looks conveyed anger and uncertainty about what Emma had just done, and as sudden as she had gotten angry, she sat down in one of the plush chairs and started crying into her hands.

He could not fully understand what she was saying, but he gathered it had something to do with him leaving her, and either taking her children or leaving her alone with their children, he wasn’t completely sure.

He knelt down besides her and tried to look at her face. “Emma, are you – are you unwell?”


	40. Birth X

“Why do you not know?!” She suddenly yelled, lifting her head from her hands, tears still running down her cheeks. “You ought to know!”

Thorin tentatively took a step back, feeling more and more as if he had wandered into some nightmare. But as he moved his legs, Emma also got up and walked to the door in angry, big paces. “You always knew!” She shouted over her shoulder, and then she left, leaving a sudden quietness after what felt like a thunderstorm.

He sat down, or rather fell down, into his chair and rubbed his beard, staring at the door.

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It was late when Thorin returned to the royal apartment. All the lights were off and the fire in the antechamber was dying down. With a tired groan he took some logs of wood and squatted down, stacking them on the low flames and pushing them with the poker to help the air flow.

When he rose, he felt the ache in his knees and back, a remnant of the past wintercold seeping into his bones. The thought of him getting old flashed through his brain, and he had to admit to himself that he definently wasn’t young anymore. It was sobering, reality, but he didn’t let it weigh him down; he had more important things to worry about.

A part of him had hoped it would just not be possible anymore, that he was too old or she could not after last time. That way there would be no one to blame, but she would not be at any risk. But to his own surprise, there was also another part of him that was flowing over in joy. Careful, in the background and hesitantly, but overflowing nonetheless.

Quietly he walked into the bedroom and took off his clothes. He slid under the covers of the bed and looked at Emma for a moment before he lied behind her and put his arm around her waist, his hand softly stroking her belly.

Emma did not react at first, too overcome by exhaustion and emotions. But slowly she started to stir, and he pulled her a little closer, nuzzling his nose in the soft strands of her hair. “I’m sorry, sanazyung.” He whispered, and he felt her hand coming to rest on his’.

“I’m not, Thorin.” She whispered back, but even though her voice was hushed, he could hear he determination in it. He was not sure if she spoke about her outburst this evening, or about carrying another child. She knew of his hesitations; he had been clear about them, perhaps she was not sorry for not bending to his wishes in this matter. He sighed, it was no use to mull about it now.

“I know.” He said, and from his tone she knew there was no linguering or hidden resentment.

 

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Thorin had woken even before the sun had risen, planning to do some work and then return to his chambers to have breakfast with Emma. As he opened the door to their bedchamber, he did not find his wife slumbering in their bed as he had expected, but sitting on the bed while Shana and Jalila braided her hair and Stone, Mell and Melo played with wooden blocks and tin soldiers on the floor. The remains of breakfast showing him his plans would not go exactly as he had thought.

For a moment he was mesmerized. He did not know whether it was because she so rarely braided her hair or if other races were right about the dwarven obsession with hair, but he liked nothing better than to watch her do her hair. This time the base seemed to be a simple braid, but strands were pulled loosely and others were twisted around the braid, making it look like a complicated vine hanging over her back.

He silently walked in and opened one of her jewelry boxes, taking out the diamonds he had given her in Rivendel. It seemed like that had happened in another life, so long ago. They had changed, both individually and as a couple. It was calmer, the way they were now, but sometimes he missed that fire in her, a fire he had seen in her eyes again last night.

When he approached them, she looked up at him with a beatific smile while her handmaidens took the profered jewelry and continued on her hair.

“Any specific occasion?” he asked while nodding his head at hers.

She pursed her lips and made he smallest shaking motion. “None, husband.”

Why in Mahal’s name was he cursed with the one wife that only became more attractive when pregnant?! Had he been alone, he would have louldly voiced his frustration with the situation, but as it stood he could only smile a bit and then sit down with the boys.

Teaching them how to most effectively lay siege upon different types of strongholds proved to be most distracting and around lunchtime he found himself lying on his belly, surrounded by wooden blocks and leading an army of tin.

Emma’s hair had long been finished, but she quietly had gestured at Jalila and Shana to remain silent so they could watch how the king of Erebor, mightiest among dwarven kings, lied on the floor and played with children’s toys.

After a few minutes he notices their stares and the fact that they were done with Emma’s hair, and he sent them away to have lunch in Jalila’s rooms.

 

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She knew what he was going to ask, she could just see it in that tell tale gleam in his eye. Over the years she had learned that whenever he looked at her in that particular way, he either had very good news, or he was about to do something that his moral side would consider not quite appropriate, yet still exciting. Part of that little game was for her to pretend to not notice and wait untill he finally got over his himself and act.

So they sat at the little table in their bedchamber and had lunch, pretending to have forgotten about last night and just the things that people say to eachother when married for a substantial amount of time.

After he finished chewing on a slice of apple, he looked at her, scraped his throat, and said: “So, do you know?”

“Know what?” Feigned ignorance on her part always made him a bit uncomfortable, and Emma had to admit it was quite amusing, so she tried extra hard.

To her surprise Thorin got up and laid down on the bed, his hands crossed behind his head, and looked up at the canopy dreamily. “They always seem very fragile, little girls. Something to put on a pedistole and only look at. It could be fun though, having a little princess. And—“ He stopped talking in the middle of his sentence and sat up, remembering another little girl they were supposed to have, but left them prematurely.

For a moment both of them were sure their quiet afternoon was ruined, overshadowed by grief that was very untangible, yet would never truly leave them. But then Emma went to sit next to her husband. “With more boys you could form some sort of a sports team.”

Thorin took her hand and placed it on his lap between his, her long, thin fingers disappearing between hun much bigger hands. They both looked at it for a while, untill Emma lied down and pulled him back with her. Burled up against his side, she whispered in his ear: “You’ll have exactly the same as the first time.”

It was as if the sun broke through on Thorn’s face, a big smile appearing, showing off his white teeth. Words were unnecessary; in this moment they were both as content as could be.


	41. Fear VI

They had lain on the bed for a while, in comfortable silence, when Emma sat up.

“Can we go do something this afternoon?” She asked, looking at him with bashing eyelashes.

He smiled, thinking he would not be able to refuse her anything right now, eyelashes or not. “What do you want to do? Shopping? Lunch? Spa?”

She shook her head and thought for a while. “What do regular people do when they want to go out?”

“Hmmm” he laid back down with his hands behind his head. “Sometimes they go visit one of the markets together, walking around and such, and then eat a bite after the man has bought something for the woman.”

Emma smiled. “Can we do that?”

With a frown he sat up. “You want to go to one of the lower level markets, in your condition? What if something happens?”

She gave him the most lovely smile again, and five minutes later they were dressing in their most common clothes so they would not get noticed.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

He walked next to her, holding her hand, while she browsed the different stalls. They had both already sighed blissfully several times. Normally they were always followed by at least a guard, and mostly also a servant. But although everyone always did their best to be inconspicuous and unobtrusive, they were still there like shadows. But not now, and somehow it was a relief. They were actually free to do what they wanted, like a weight they did not know they were carrying was lifted from their shoulders.

So Emma wandered freely, chosing all kind of fabrics from which she appearantely wanted to have babyclothes made, and a whole array of other, what Thorin believed to be, sewing supplies. Or something like that. It did not really matter what she got, as long as it made her happy.

As she browsed and he paid, he wondered how long it would take for them to be recognized, but as the afternoon went along, that didn’t happen. Instead, they wandered on to a small theatre where the show appeared to have just started, the benches in the front of it already mostly filled. Luckily, there were still two places in he back, and he lead Emma there, placing his arms around her shoulder.

“I feel like we’re on a real date.” She whispered in his ear, evoking a chuckle and a kiss on her temple from him. It was perfect in every way, something he would have liked to have done together before they married.

Then a new actor came on the stage, dressed in a Durin blue doublet, obviously wearing a wig with exaggerated braids just like he had.

 _“And here we have our dear ruler.”_ The commentator said. _“But what are his favourite subjects?”_  A bunch of cats walked along the stage, and the public already started laughing. Emma had not quite gotten the joke, her relative innocense once again emphasised, and just smiled a bit. And then two actresses entered the stage. Thorin knew where this was going, but he knew he could not leave now, both Emma and the other people watching the play would notice, and so he had to sit still to await his own doom. It was only when a third actress, dressed like Emma always dressed and with a wig to make her appear more like the royal she was imitating, that Emma looked at him.

“This is about us, isn’t it?” She asked, looking at him uncertainly. He could only nod, especially when the actress playing Sandris waved some papers at the fake Thorin and then clambered onto his lap.

 _“We should really get into these papers, your_ highness” the actress giggled. _“Get into them deep and hard so we get to the bottom of it all”_

His counterpart grinned suggestively, waggling his eyebrows at the public while he ran his hand over Sandris thighs.

He had thought it couldn’t get any worse, but then the, bad, imitation of Jessa also jumped in, and a conversation over bastards was played out, all the while the fake Emma looked around dimwittedly and played with her hair and jewels. It was then that his wife had had enough and walked away. When he also got up, their relative anonymity was blown and the actors and public all looked at him aghast and fearfull.

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He found her in the old diningroom, staring at the large painting of Melo with the tiger, and without saying anything he closed the doors behind him and sat next to her.

As an hour or two passed by, they just sat there in silence, untill she looked at him. “They need to leave.”

He had expected this, but the timing of it all was horrendous. The first time she had been with child, it was in this room the curtains had started to fall, opening the door to events around Jessa that had nearly costed him his marriage and his children. He could not deny her this time; a second time it would not be a near loss.

“I’ll talk to Balin, and if that is not enough, we’ll tie her to the transfer of Khazad-Dum.”

She nodded, turning her attention back to the painting. He briefly wondered what she liked so much about it; it was a gaudy thing and he was sure the size of that white tiger was blown up. But as he looked at Melo’s face, he saw he had been drawn with the exact facial expression he always had when he looked at Emma when he helped her figure out a problem.

“I want _her_ gone also, Thorin.” She said without looking at him. “She has ruined my brother’s reputation, nearly got him casted out and then had her husband murder him.  And then all the things she has done to me. You know that as well as I do. And now I’m being made a fool because of you, because of _her_!”

He nodded, though more for himself than for her. “It is not that easy, sanazyung, you have to understand.”


	42. Fear VII

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I have added two chapters tonight, if you have not read about a visit to a market, please go back one chapter :)

A shiver ran over his spine, despite the warmth of the setting sun, and Elrond knew he could no longer ignore the premonitions that had been looming over his every waking moment. Ignoring them had been the easy way out, but also a coward’s choice.

Sensing the future was not a thing he wanted, though he knew its value, and never had he loathed it more than now. The images he had started getting when Estel came to live with them had been unpleasant, but at least he had seen a certain amount of happiness for Arwen, and a chance for him to wield some influence over it. Yet for Emma, it was different. He could not see it all, merely the malicious influences of her current condition.

Blood. Blood and death, that was all. If he let it, it would cripple him, frozen in inaction and doubt. But he could not allow such a thing to occur, he had to do _something_.

It seemed he wasn’t the only one coming to this conclusion, as he heard the russle of Galadriel’s dress as she walked up the stairs to the vista he was sitting.

“The threads of the fabric of the world are shifting.” He said without looking at her. Others might have considered it rude, but between them formalities had been dispensed with a long time ago when not in public.

“You know what role she plays in it, Elrond. You know what she is carrying.” She answered in that low tone of voice she got when she tried to interpret the future. “They will decide the outcome of the war to come and they will be the cause of her death.”

He had been able to push his own feelings away in the dark recesses of his mind that he did not wish to visit. But she pointed them out so visciously clear that he could no longer ignore it. He did not know what was more painfull: having those ominous feeling nagging at the back of his head, or having to sit back and watch her future inevitably play out.

Galadriel saw his anguish, and just raised one eyebrow slightly to show him there were other options, options that would end all insecurity but also all possibilities.

She left him after that, taking away his opportunity to contradict her, to make a case for other ways, for alternative solutions. Left him alone to be tortured by his visions.

Could that which she undoubtedly cherish so much, also be her end, the end of everything?


	43. Power I

Four weeks had passed since their botched afternoon, and he had expected Emma to blow everything up every minute of those 28 days. But she had only nodded when he told her Sandris was working somewhere else, where she wasn’t around men so much. Getting that done had been laughingly easy. Balin had looked incredibly relieved when he had carefully told him the repercussions the current situation was having, and had confessed it was something he had wanted to do himself were it not for his wife.

When Emma hadn’t said anything about Jessa ever since, he had thought himself safe, had fooled himself into believing that Emma had let it go and that she understood.

He nearly laughed at himself for entertaining such thought; he should have known better ever since he told himself his grandfather was just getting a bit senile when in reality he was utterly obsessed with his wealth.

Thorin hoped his willingness to fool himself would not have such repercussions now. But as he looked back to the bed on which Emma lay deep asleep, and then in front of him outside where he saw Dain with a rather large company approaching, he wasn’t sure.

He wished he could close his doors. The entrance doors to Erebor first, and then the door to their apartments, shutting everyone out so they could just live in their cosy bubble, their little family all that mattered.

 

X-O-X-O

 

There was a soft knock on the door, but thankfully Emma only stirred but did not wake. Quickly but quietly he walked out of their bedchamber, to find Balin there. It was his trusted advisor that had him woken this morning even before the sun had risen, having received Dain’s messenger.

“He’s here for Jess?” Thorin asked Balin as the smaller and slightly older dwarf was struggling to keep up with him on his way to the throneroom.

“Aye. Said they were coming to close the deal offered to them.” Balin panted.

He felt a little ‘thump’ when Balin bumped into him as he suddenly stood still. Emma had not only invited his cousin here, she had already offered him a deal. So he changed direction, bending away from where he would inevitably receive his cousin, and going westwards to the part of the mountain where the lower nobles lived.

“I will be right back. Keep Dain entertained untill then and make sure Emma doesn’t leave our chambers.” He said to Balin, in a roughed tone than he had intended.

While his thoughts were whirling through his head, his feet brought him to Jessa’s door, and reluctantly he softly knocked.

X-O-X-O

His son opened, and he was met with the biggest, brightest smile Thorin had ever seen anyone make in so early in the morning.

“Adad!” Ferin yelled, and immediately he grabbed his father’s arm and dragged him to the dining room, where a modest breakfast stood on the table. Jessa, dressed in her nightclothes, looked at him with big eyes as he entered, trying to quickly close her robe and brush her hands through her hair.

He permitted himself the few precious moments of relative peace they still had, knowing that he was about to choose between his children. No matter what was going on between Jessa, himself and Emma, Ferin absolutely did not deserve this. The notion carved through his heart, and for several moments he could do no more than just look at the boy, listening to the excited voice of the child chatting away about everything and nothing.

From the corner of his eye he saw that Jessa was still silently looking at him, her puzzled expression showing she had no clue whatsoever what he was doing here. But for now, he could not deal with that, he needed to focuss on Ferin first.

He patted his lap, and Ferin jumped out of his chair and onto his father’s legs. He was so eager, it reminded Thorin of Kili. His sister-son had also always been begging for his attention like that, and now he wondered what made for those differences between Stone and Mell and Ferin, and between Fili and Kili.

But his time to think about it was short, as Ferin started to play with his father’s braids, readjusting a bead or a clasp here and there, tucking in loose strands and pulling them a bit so they would be even.

“Do you have any beads and clasps already?” He asked impulsively, and when Ferin shook his head in denia, he pulled one of his sapphire clasps out of his hair. “I got this from my father when I was young, and when we retook Erebor I found it again. Would you like to have it?”

Without waiting for an answer he slowly started to separate a strand from the boy’s hair next to his temple, and braided it into the Durin pattern. Ferin sat absolutely still, looking completely concentrated, with the tip of his tongue sticking out of his mouth, although he wasn’t actually doing anything. Rationally he knew he shouldn’t; it could cause problems for them all. But emotionally, it felt right to at least give the boy a bit of him, though he knew he was falling terribly short.

When he was done, he braided a strand on the other side in the same fashion and fastened it with a bead.

“Amad, look! Adad gave me braids, he gave me braids and a clasp!” Ferin cheered, and Jessa nodded, a smile plastered on her face as to not let her son know something was off. “Aye, but you need something to match that clasp, don’t you think?”

Ferin nodded breathlessly. “Now which of my jewelry do you think matches your clasp?” Thorin asked, opening up his doublet and holding out his hands so Ferin could see. He noticed the boy hesitated, and for a moment he wondered why; very few dwarves would hesitate if gold and gems were offered to them. But then it came to him: his son was afraid to ask for too much, to be too presumptuous. He probably didn’t even know it on a rational level, but he must have felt like it wasn’t his place to ask for anything. And so Thorin took off one of the pieces that was most valuable to him: his silver ring with the first sapphire to have been found in the Blue Mountains. It was a sturdy thing, small silver bands running over the sapphire in a rectangular shape, and probably not very suitable for his son’s fingers for at least another ten years. The monetary value of the ring was low; the sapphire was far from flawless, and it was made of silver instead of gold or mythril, but Thorin was very attached to it.

“Are you big enough to be carefull with this, Ferin?” He asked, softly stroking his thumb over the boy’s cheek. “Because even though this ring is not expensive, it is worth a lot to me.”

“I promise to take good care of it, adad.” Ferin whispered, looking at the ring that had been pressed into his palm with more strength that he was used to from his adad.

“Good boy. Now go and play in your room a bit. I need to talk to your amad but I’ll come get you after.”

Both parents look at Ferin leaving the room, and then Jessa turned to him, her big eyes alreay wet with tears. When Thorin had given his gifts to his son, she knew what was going on, and she was certain she was going to have to leave Erebor. The only thing she did not know yet was whether Ferin would be staying here or if he would be allowed to go with her.

She sank tot her knees on the ground and buried her face in Thorin’s chest. “Please Thorin” she pleaded “Please don’t send me away and don’t take him from me.”

She felt his strong arms wrap around her as he had done for so many times before he got married. “I promise” she sobbed. “I promise no one of your family will ever see me. I won’t be a bother anymore, please Thorin.”

His grip around her became even tighter, and he pulled her up so their heads were at an equal level. “A deal has been made, Jessa, and as it has not been done by me, I can not change it.”

She cried for a long time after that, at leas an hour must have passed, but she knew him, better than he thought, and she knew he would not change his mind. Yet she tried. “What can I do, Thorin? Anything!”

He looked at her and brushed a strand of hair wet with her tears away from her face. “Dain will get your husband back if he takes you to the Iron Hills.” He scoffed in his hurt. “ there is nothing to be done.”

“And Ferin?’’ Jessa asked in a trembling voice, needing to know his answer but not wanting to hear it,

“He will stay with you untill he is twelve. Then he will come here.”

With that he carefully pried her arms off him and got up, leaving her on her knees and crying.

 

X-O-X-O

 

Ferin sat on his lap during the negotiations between Emma and Dain, and afterwards, when Dain had taken Ferin and Jessa and had left, he still felt the imprint of his sons little body against his chest and on his legs. He stared into the fire, a glass of whiskey firmly held in his hand. It was his sixth or seventh, but it still didn’t help to numb his feelings. He knew it wouldn’t last forever, but right now, in this moment, he absolutely hated his wife.

“Thorin…” Emma started tentatively as she came into the room, putting her hand on his upper arm.

He shrugged it off. “Just—just leave me alone for a while, Emma.”


	44. Power II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Finaly!! I have been stuck with this story for quite some time, knowing what will happen later on but struggling to write the coming chapters, but somehow I did it. I hope I have not disappointed you too much, and that this story will still interest and entertain you :)

_Dear Adad,_

_Amad told me I could write to you, and that if you have enough time, you will write back. Because I can’t write so well yet, I am telling Dagnur what I want to tell you, and he writes it down for me. Dagnur works for king Dain, and he helps amad and me now that we are living here in the Iron Hills._

_I don’t really like it here. I don’t know anyone, and amad is sad all the time. She has a husband now, his name is Durer and he acts very strange. He talks to the walls, even though I told  him walls can not talk. But amad says they have been married for a long time and I have to be nice to him. King Dain comes over a lot, because he is the father of amad’s husband, and he always pats me on the head but he always does it a bit too hard and I’m afraid I will lose my clasps._

_School is also really boring. The teacher has a stupid voice and he gets annoyed if I ask questions. I don’t know the other boys realy well, and only one wants to play with me. His name is Kadis, and he lives a couple houses away from us._

_I miss you, adad. Do you miss me? Amad tells me you did not want us to move, but that someone else wanted us to. But you are king, adad. They say you are the mightiest dwarf king of all, so why don’t you send for us to come back?_

_Love,_

_Ferin_

 

_P.S. Your royal majesty, please forgive my intrusion, but I feel it is proper I introduce myself. My name, as said by young Ferin, is Dagnur. I am one of the servants to Durer and his family and in that function I will assist Ferin in his writing to your royal highness. I only write down what he tells me to, and I hope I will give no offence in doing so._

 

 

Thorin swallowed thickly as he read the letter. And then he read it again and again untill he could dream the  lines that gave him a grim look into the new life of his son.

 

He was used to being able to control everything. Everything, up untill the goats on the top, in this mountain was under his control and influence, and nothing happened without his explicit or implicit approval.

But this, the life of his firstborn, he had as of recent no control whatsoever over. Besides that, it had set in motion a whole chain of events that seemed to slip thorugh his fingers like sand. Firstly, there was Dain. His cousin was quite unhappy with the state in which he had gotten his son back; talking to the walls was the least of Durer’s problems. Appearantely he liked to lock himself in cupboards and such, and he wholy disliked meeting literally anyone.

Then there was Balin. In a feeble and impotent attempt to punish Emma for what she had done to Durer, though it was not exactly clear what she had done, Dain had announced that he withdrew any support and contact with all the regions Emma gouverned. And that appearantely included Moria, so now Dain did not want to support the future kingdom Balin wanted to establish there. Enter an agitated Balin into the mix.

And thirdly his wife. Thorin sighed deepy and rubbed his face. Somehow they were unable to just have some peace and calm. They always seemed to go between being almost enemies to being madly in love. It was so damn tempting to just keep pulling back as he had done in the past months. Ever since she had sent Ferin away, he had retreated further and further, rarely seeing her besides the obligatory dinners and such. Emma seemed to have gotten the message, as she was mostly absent from public appearances with the excuse of her pregnancy.

That should have been good for him, were it not that Emma spent most of her time with her ada. And Elrond was worried, though he did not tell him exacty why; he only kept bothering him with an abstract feeling of unease.

In short: in the past months Thorin had gotten into problems with his chief advisor, his cousin, his wife and his father in law, all the while he had to run a whole mountain, control his council and he had to live with the absence of his son. He now knew why his father and grandfather always looked so damn dour.

 

X-O-X-O

 

It seemed like five minutes after he had finally fallen asleep after a lot of tossing and turning, that he was gently shook to awake. Upon opening his eyes, he did not look into the face of a servant or his butler, but in that of a very alert looking Shana, who was frantically clutching her dressing gown to keep it closed.

“It started” she whispered urgently, and then rushed out of his room, leaving him to wonder if this as real or a dream. With an amused scoff he remembered another time that Shana was in their chambers at night and he wondered if it was a drem, and as it had turned out to be reality then, he got out of bed and quickly put on some clothes.

Seeing the bustle of activity in the antechamber, that was the right decision, and he took a seat on the most comfortable sofa in the sitting room. The waiting began, and one by one his familymembers came to join him. And there they sat, for two days, getting regular updates from the healers that were always the same: no news yet. Untill a pale faced Elrond came in.


	45. Power III

She was getting backrubs and cooling towels on her forehead and everyone was telling her how well she was doing, but it was just plain awful. She had remembered that giving birth hurt, but how much it hurt exactly had somehow just been erased from her mind.

When the sun had come up and then had set again, Elrond had asked her if she wanted him to fetch Thorin for her. He remembered how things had progressed after her husband had come the previous time, and as it seemed to be taking longer this time, when he would expect it to go faster, he believed the king’s presence would help.

She shook her head adamantly. “No.” Emma remembered how embarrased she had felt. Not in the moment, there had been no room for an emotion like that at the time, but afterwards. And so she ploughed on, her only job consisting of somehow getting through the pain.

When the backrubs and the cooling towels seemed to lose their effect, she felt her energy slowly but surely draining, but there was nothing she could do; she could only give in to what her body was doing, she wasn’t strong enough to fight it anymore.

 

X-O-X-O

 

Thorin was in the sitting room, surrounded by his family but feeling completely lonely, even though his nephews tried to talk to him and Dis kept rubbing his arm in what he believed was supposed to be a comforting way. He wondered why Emma didn’t ask for him, didn’t call for him this time. Did she think he would not come? Or did she feel like he would not be of any help to her? Outwardly he focussed on not showing any sign of nervousness, on looking as normal as ever. But inwardly his thoughts flew around like a whirlwind, and he had to fight to resist the urge of just getting up and walking into the bedroom.

Elrond’s vaguely phrased worries began to take shape in his mind, and when more and more healers and nurses were walking in and out of the bedroom, doom scenario’s began to play out, and without consciously knowing, he began pulling his beard as he had done when he was younger and he wanted it to grow faster.

On the evening of the second day, Elrond came in, his face pale and dark circles around his eyes. With a subtle jerk of his head he wordlessly asked Thorin to step out of the sitting room and into the antechamber, where a healer was waiting.

It was in the eyes of his father-in-law that Thorin saw the answers to worries, yet he did not want to accept it; not nw, not ever.

“You may have to make a choice soon, your highness.” The healer whispered.

A choice. _The_ choice. Choosing between Emma and his children. Choosing between having four motherless children or a wife that lost two of her babies, again. It was no real choice. Oh, he was sure that if it really came down to it he would choose right, but it didn’t come down to it, not yet. Not if it was up to him.

Elrond and the healer kept talking softly to him, appearantely explaining options and whatnot, but he didn’t hear nor listened, he only thought of how to help his wife do what she wanted to do, what she had set out to do, what she had chosen for.

And so, while Elrond and the healer were still talking, he just walked away and into the bedroom with heavy, steady paces, like a man that meant business. Inside of him was his softer version, helplessly thinking he was unable to do this, but on the outside king Thorin looked like he would finish the job himself.

Once in the bedroom he needed a small moment to gather himself. Emma lay on the bed, her face drained of all blood and as pale as the sheets. There were dark purple circles around her eyes and her hair and shift were soaked in what he assumed was sweat. She did not move nor speak, he only saw her body cramping up and then relaxing, without any other reaction to it.

He breathed in deeply, trying to ignore the smell of blood, and then stood next to his wife.

“Is this what your brother told you?” He said firm and loudly, and the way she looked up at him was heartbreaking, yet he did not stop, he knew he could not afford to do so. “Did he teach you to be a quitter, Emma?”

He softly shook her head in answer to him. “Then get on with it!” He nearly yelled. He knew this was going to haunt him for the rest of his days, acting to her in such a way in this situation, but this was the only way he could imagine of trying to get her to find some hidden energy. Reminding her of her brother, of Melo’s expectations of her. He had seen it once, during a boxing match the siblings had had. Melo had pushed his sister beyond her own limits, but instead of crumbling under it, she had risen to the challange.

Everyone in the room had been looking at him agast, some in shock that their king would act like this, for others it was a conformation of their thoughts on him. But he did not care, because he saw Emma trying to sit up on her elbows, and with a firm hand he assisted her, trying to keep the weight off of her arms.

“Do it, Emma.” He continued in a voice than reminded him strongly of Dwalin drilling new recruits. “You know you can do better than this!”

Once the healers had cast away their shock, they immediately jumped forward to aid her.

It took another hour. An hour is which he saw her crying soundlessly, tears streaming over her face, an hour in which she screamed louder than he had ever heard, screams that turned his spine into ice, and an hour in which he thought, feared, that she would break under the strain.

But then he came. Small, shrill cries and covered in blood, but he made it. His brother followed after five minutes, equally unhappy with his sudden new surroundings. They were dried off, bundled and checked by the healers, but when they wanted to hand the newborns to Emma, she could not even raise her arms to hold them anymore.

The healers sent Thorin out of the room, holding two sons in his arms that he suddenly had no idea what to do with.


	46. Power IV

He had known times in which he was unwanted, in which his presence was undesired, in which he was seen as inferior or in which he was not taken serious. But he, Thorin the Third, had never before been useless; he always contributed, no matter what. So when he sat in the corner of the nursery, watching nurses feed his sons and knowing this was not what Emma wanted, he got to know the utterly frustrating feeling for the first time. It tested his patience to the limits; he wanted to just take his boys and sit next to his wife and that everything would be well, like it was supposed to be.

But it wasn’t, and so the king of Erebor waited untill the babies were fed and dressed, and then he carefully picked them up, having to get used to the feeling of holding newborns again. He took the babies to show them to Stone and Mell, and Stone looked at them and softly stroked their heads, aided by the nurses and his nanny. Mell however just threw them a cursory glance, and then put his fists in his sides and looked up at his father.

“Where is amad? I want to see amad.” He demanded, anger radiating off of him for some reason.

Carefully balancing his newborns, Thorin sat down on the sofa and nudged Mell to sit next to him. “Amad is still very tired, inudoy. When she is feeling better you can see her right away.”

He said the words as firmly as he could, but they lacked conviction, as he himself was not sure he would see her again. Mell must have sensed it, as he sqeezed his eyes and looked at the babies through his his eyelashes. “They did this to her, didn’t they?” he said, and for a moment Thorin feared that Mell would somehow try to hurt his little brothers.

But the boy just scoffed and walked to his room, kicking the door open with uncharacteristic agression, followed by his worried brother and their nannies. The second prince of Erebor was usually a calm lad, eager to learn and play, but never as rambunctuous as his older brother, and never prone to violence or anger, so this anger worried Thorin.

A moment later, his worries were proven to be founded, as a ruckass came from the room, sounding like things were being kicked, and he could hear Mell scream. “I want my Amad, I want my Amad!” Over and over he heard his son scream, getting more and more angry everytime he raised his voice.

While he was still making up his mind about what to do; taking the babies with him to see to Mell or taking them to their room, he saw that baby One was scrunching up his face and making sounds that he was pretty sure of were going to lead to crying. So he walked back to the nursery and gave the boys to the wetnurses to take care of.

After that, his hands were free to go and try to calm down Mell. As he walked into the room, he immediately had to duck from some object flying his way. Appearantely his middle child had worked himself in such a state, he had started throwing things. The nannies were sitting in a corner and trying to talk to him, while Stone tried to hold down his arms. Yet none of it worked. With a nod the nannies and Stone were sent out, and taking a few strides, Thorin kneeled down next to his son, firmly gripping his upper arms.

The boy didn’t look at him at first, so wrapped up in his tantrum. But after being held immobile for a few minutes, he seemed to calm down, breaking down in wet sobs. “Where is amad?” he cried softly. “She promissed I could see her after the babies were born. She _promissed_ and now I can’t and I _know_ something is wrong!”

Thorin marvelled at how a 5 year old could be so clearly spoken, and pulled him into a tight hug. “Amad is not feeling well, inudoy. She is very sick at the moment, so we all need to be calm and quiet so she can rest and recover. And I promise that when she is better, you can see her.”

Large, wet green eyes looked at him, trying to figure out if he was telling the truth or not, and appearantely he passed as Mellin sunk into his arms again, crying and no doubtedly smearing tears and snot onto his clothes. The difference between Stone and Mell was interesting to see. Where Thorin’s words had easily placated Stone, they had had no such effect on Mell. Was Mell simply more attached to his mother, or did he trust his father less?

It did not matter at the moment, and Thorin lifted his son up and carried him to his bed, tucking him under the blankets. “Sleep a bit, and when you are rested and calm, I think your mother wil also be.”

 

X-O-X-O

 

An hour later the chief healer came out of the bedroom and asked Thorin for a moment in a soft voice. Thorin thought of a riddle, or rather a conundrum, his teacher had presented to him when he was young. If you have a chest that is filled with something, and that chest is the only thing you have, then you are simultaneously the poorest and the richest man alive. For that chest could be filled with useless rocks and you have nothing, or it could be filled with the greatest treasure ever seen, and you are the wealthiest.

He had thought about it for days, unable to wrap his mind about something that looked like a mathemetical problem but was, as he realized years later, a philosophical one. In this moment it was Frerin’s solution he thought about. His brother had proposed never opening the chest, and looking at things from the bright side, consequently always being the most wealthy man. If he just didn’t talk to the healer now, and left the bedroomdoor closed, he would forever be a man with a wife and five sons. He would never have to face the possibility that he lost Emma, and he would never have to feel that pain.

His moments of neverending possibilities were short lived however, as the healer started to speak.

“Her highess is weak, but she lives.” He stated, yet his serious expression did not match the good news. Thorin did not have to ask, as the healer continued in a grave tone. “She’ll not be – There will be no more children.”

For a moment Thorin wanted to laugh and cry in happiness, what could he care about more children, he had her and they had four already. But then he thought about how Emma would feel about this. Even though she had promissed she would ask him for no more children, he knew she would want it. Balin had been right in what he had said to Thorin a few weeks after Stone and Mell were born: Emma’s greed lay not with gold, but with her children. She loved them like he had never seen before; never ending.

It would be cruel if this news was brought to her by a healer that spoke in formal and detached words, for whom she would have to hide her feelings and remain a detached head of state, yet he was not sure if he could tell her this. He just did not know if he possessed the strength, not after what he had done to her, said to her.


	47. Power V

The bedroom was dark and cool, the sheets feeing crisp against her body. Her body that was feeling so incredibly tired and so enormously sore, that it did not allow her to sleep anymore. She wanted to call someone to bring her to her sons, but somehow even that was too much effort. She waited and fell into a slumber, a relaxed state of being between being awake and asleep. She did not know how long she had been  lying like that, but the soft creak of the door as it opened woke her, and she saw Thorin entering, taking soft steps to avoid rousing her.

“Were are they?” She immediately asked, her voice hoarse and her throat dry.

Thorin sat down on the side of the bed and gave her the juice that had been standing on the stand next to the bed. “They sleep, azyungal. They were clothed and fed and now they are in their cribs.”

She nodded. “Later?” She asked, some desperation clearly audible.

“Aye, later. And when you’ve seen them, we can decide what we shall name them.”

He did not leave her to sleep, but instead kept stroking her head while softly humming. When he saw she did not sleep after a while, helied down next to her. “Sleep, Sanazyung. You need to regain your strength.”

“Talk to me, Thorin” Emma answered. “Tell me a story.”

He grinned. “What do you want to hear?”

“About your life in the Bue mountains. Tel me how in was there.”

Thorin laid back, one arm folded behind his head, and thought for a while, not knowing where to start. But as he gave her the story about their wanderings, about the horrors of the Marchlands and the poverty in the Dunlands, more and more details came back to him, how he had traveled from town to town as a smith, how he and Dwalin had trained Fili and Kili in the woods, untill he could describe the decoration of his halls in the east looked. He even told her about Azanulbizar, how he had lost so much that day.

He had expected her to have fallen asleep a long time ago, as it felt ike he had taked for hours. But not onlywas she still awake, she had really been listening.

“You speak of your father and grandfather, of your sister and sister-sons, but never about your brother. Why not?”

He sharply took in a deep breath of air at thememories that suddenly came fooding in. For years he had systematically and succesfully supressed any thought of Frerin, but with this one question of his wife everything came right back, as if it had been waiting to come to the surface of his mind.

Frerin. His funny, playfull and free brother Frerin. At least, that was how he had been when he was young.

“It is—difficult” He managed to say. Perhaps this was the moment. Perhaps he could now unburden himself, voice the thoughts he had not even been able to share with his sister. But then, on the other hand, it was not something Emma would want to hear, especially not now. “It is not a nice story, and this is not the time.”

“Tell me” she softly urged him.

And then, without him consciously saying the words, they spilled out of him:

“He was five years younger than me, and as soon as he could walk he would follow me around, going where I went, wanting to do what I did. It drovememad in the beginning, aways being followed by a toddler who would throw a tantrum if he couldn’t do what I did. But then he started to grown in me.”

Thorin paused for a moment and looked at his wife. “it is not a good story, Emma. Let’s keep it for another time.”

A soft push against his upper arm told him that Emma wanted him to continue, and so he went on:

“I think he was about twelve or thirteen when we became more equal as brothers. Before he was too childish for me to talk to him, but that changed. We did almost everything together. The way Fili and Kili act around eachother reminds me a lot of Frerin and me.” Thorin grinned. “Although I was much more responsible than Fili of course.”

“After his coming of age party he started to change. He became more withdrawn, and nothing I did could get him out of his shell. He carried a secret with him, something dark, but I couldn’t get it out of him. He went through the motions; training, going for an ale, having fun with our friends. But he was only present in body, his mind was somewhere else.”

A hum from Emma puled him from his thoughts, but it was only meant to encourage her, not the kind of satisfied hum she sometimes made wen she slept after a long day.

“He survived Smaug and went to the Dunlands with us. Always by my side and taking care of Dis. And then that fatefull evening came. The march on Moria was days away and we needed to blow off some steam. The tensions of planning the attack and trying to deal with our grandfather were becoming too much, so we went to an inn with some of our friends.”

The images of the night, only sparsely lit by some cheap torches hit him, and he needed some time to sort through them and keep his emotions in check.

“We had been drinking all evening, and at some moment I didn’t see Frerin anymore. I thought he had gone into some alley with one of the tavernwenches, and I went out to go find him. We couldn’t afford to lose to whole next morning; we had things to do. When I went out, I heard some voices in the alley, just as I had thought. But he wasn’t there with a wench, he was there with one of the miners.”

He had expected Emma to react in some way, but she just kept looking at him as if he just hadn’t told her something quite shocking and she was still waiting for the rest of the story. It took a while for him to understand, but then he got that she was still too innocent to comprehend. He marveled at how she had changed but also had remained the same.

“They had relations, like men and women can have.” He clarified, and then some confusion became visible in her features. “How?” she whispered. “Why?”

“Perhaps that’s for another time.” Thprin replied, not wanting to explain such deviancies to her. “it suffices to say that that evening I found out Frerin prefered men over women. And as I was unabe to hold my temper, many others also knew. His secret was finally out in the open, with devastating results.”

His emotions had caused his voice to go a little hoarse, and he felt Emma’s hand resting on his chest, calming the racing of his heart. “Father and grandfather went mad. They wanted to disinherit him, send him away, but with a campaign nearly starting they couldn’t do without him. Even then they knew that every man counted, and Frerin was to lead a whole company, so he had to stay. His bruised were blamed on a tavern fight. “

He didn’t mention that he gave his brother most of those bruises, even now it hurt too much to take up the responsability for his part in Frerin’s passing.

“But as it always does, rumour spread like fire, and soon nearly everyone knew of Frerin’s infliction, though we didn’t hear the whispers untill it was too late. His men didn’t respect him anymore, and when it counted, in the heat of battle, they did not follow him. They ignored his commands and doomed them all.”

Thorin rubbed his forehead, trying o find the words needed to explain it. “I found most of them after the battle, their bodies marred by the crude orcish swords. Only one or two of his company survived, and they told me the truth. Frerin had died not because of his lack of skills, but because of who he was.”

He wanted to turn away, to hide his grief and shame, but then Emma spoke:”He didn’t die because of who he was, but because of the judgement of others.”

“Aye” he said, thankfull to be able to get away from his emotions. “We should have known this could happen, we made a bad judgement by sending him.”

A soft noise came from his noise, like a scoff. “No, not that. He died because people made stupid judgements about him. Why does it matter who someone likes?”

He had had so many arguements for his point of view back then, he even still had them now, but he didn’t know how to phrase them after such a simple question. He just couldn’t, because it would mean Frerin had died without any reason, without any cause, and it would be a waste instead of a sacrifice made for the betterment of Durin’s Folk.

 

X-O-X-O

 

Somewhere during his silent relfection, Emma had finally fallen asleep, only to wake when there were soft knocks on the door and the babies were brought in by the wetnurses. When he looked at his wife’s face, he knew why she had done it, why she had gone through all the peri land pain of giving birth. She once told him having a child was like starting a new mine: giving birth was going through the rubble, but having the child was like finding the first gem.

And now, when he looked at her, he saw she had found her gems. Her eyes shone, and it was like the dark circles disappeared for a moment when she took the boys in her arms. Immediately she sat back like she had done with Stone and Mell, her legs pulled up and a baby on each.

The nurses discretey left the room and Thorin sat next to Emma, putting his arm around her shoulder and holding tight. “They’re perfect” she whisperede awe clearly audible in her voice, .

“Aye, that they are.” He answered, evenly in awe, but with her.

“And their names?” She asked without taking her eyes off her babies.

“I thought to name them after their grandfathers. Threrin and Elrin.”

 

When she sat peacefully with her sons in the hour after, he wondered how he could ever tell her she would have no more.


	48. Part III

Finally!

After a very long period of absence, I have put up the first chapter of the third and final part of the story of Thorin and Emma. I hope you will be able to forgive me the long wait and keep sharing your thoughts and comments!


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